Build a little Fire where it's Cold
by thrandelly
Summary: Modern AU! It's a dark night when Robert Crawley, a young policeman, is shot in the back and urgently operated. The verdict is simple: he's going to be partially paraplegic for the rest of his life. This is when a beautiful and sweet nurse, Cora Levinson, gets into his life and changes it completely: will she be able to drown his demons and start a new life together?
1. Chapter 1

She saw him every day and yet, she had never talked to him.

Not that she didn't want to, on the contrary: somewhere inside her, a growing desire of speaking to him and hearing his voice was getting stronger and stronger every day; the point was, she couldn't talk to him. Everything she could do was spy him for a brief moment every time she passed quickly in front of the half-open door of his hospital door. Spy his ash blonde curls, his big blue eyes, his broad shoulders… Spy his obvious despair.

No wonder that Cora Levinson, a twenty-three years old American nurse who was working in London thanks to an Oxford fellowship, felt quite confused by that whole situation. She loved her job, she really did, but she had never taken such an interest for a patient before…

She remembered vividly the night she had first seen him: he had been taken to the hospital on a Friday, in a rush, while she was on shift. She was a nurse in the pediatric department, but still she had given her colleagues a hand when she had seen the conditions of that young man. Black was the color of his police uniform. Blue was the color of his eyes. And red, dark and grim red was the color of his blood, that was everywhere, _everywhere_ : on his back, on the stretcher… on her hands…

They had urgently operated him and had managed to save his life. Cora, deeply worried about that stranger, had asked Anna, a colleague, who was that young man and what had happened to him; Anna didn't know much, but she was sure of two things: his name was Robert Crawley and he had been shot in the back.

Then the rumors had started to crawl on the walls of every department, until they reached her ears as well: apparently, Robert Crawley was the son of one of the richest and noblest families in England, established in Yorkshire; he had decided not to take on his father's business and had become a policeman instead. Now, he had been shot and, as most of nurses kept on whispering while they were on lunch break, he could no longer walk.

And somehow, somehow Cora had found herself more and more attached to that Robert Crawley… although they had never shared a single word. She didn't pity him, it wasn't that: she just… well, she didn't know. She cared about him. She would take a look at his room every time she could, when she passed through that department to reach hers, and the view in front of her eyes would always be the same: Robert Crawley sat on his bed, silent, motionless, lost in his mind. His eyes always wandered, looking somewhere afar or maybe, maybe just looking nowhere. Those two big blue eyes –Cora had noticed their particular colour the first time she had seen him, they were dark blue, as the night sea under a pale moonlight- seemed filled with nothing. Which of course was a contradiction, and still that was she felt when she looked at him: a once fierce young man whose passions and dreams had turned to dust.

And so, so she saw him every day and yet, she had never talked to him.

But that changed on a night, a dark night when a pale full moon stretched its white fingers inside the halls of the hospital, lighting them faintly, creating a sort of unique quiet magic, a magic Cora didn't notice at first… but that was just because she had no idea that night was going to change her whole life.

She was on night shift and was walking along the corridors, making sure everybody was fast asleep. It was pretty late –one a.m., probably, she wasn't sure, she never use the smartphone at work and she had never had a watch- when she heard a distant sound. She stopped, trying to listen more carefully. For a moment, she thought she had imagined the whole business, but then the faraway noise began once again, and now she was sure…

It was the sound of someone crying. And it came from Robert Crawley's room.

Cora couldn't decide what to do… going in? But what if… Before she could shape a single doubt in her mind, her worries acted on impulse, and she found herself tapping on the white wooden door of the room. Her heart was beating so fast… no one answered. Taking a deep breath, Cora decided there was only one sensible thing to do: enter. The sole idea of going in made her soft cheeks turn into a decisive shade of pink, but she had no choice. Her arm stretched, she reached for the door and silently opened it.

What she saw, shocked her much more than she'd expected: it was Robert Crawley. His head in his buried in his hands, his body shaking, while resounding sighs and sobs slipped out of his open swollen lips.

"Sir, I'm sorry, I…", she whispered softly, careful not to wake up the patients in the other rooms, but the words just came out of her lips muffled and confused: it hurt her to see him like that. She had never spoken to him before, but it hurt, and it stung, and it pierced her heart, and it made her feel like she couldn't breathe.

"I… I am fine", he managed to stammer, smiling sadly through the tears that covered the stubble that was decisively growing on his cheeks, "I didn't mean to bother you on your night shift. Please, miss, go on, I am sure you have far more important things to do".

Cora swallowed, panic and pain oppressing her… No, no! She had to be strong, now: she straightened her back and entered the room. "I am a nurse. It is no bother, that's my job", she replied. Yet, inside her, her mind was playing his voice on repeat, again and again. She lowered her eyes for an imperceptible moment, overcome by an awareness: the first time she heard his voice, she heard his sad tone, filled with sorrow… she nervously began to play with the hem of her hospital gown. She betted his voice sounded so sweet, when he was happy… she betted it didn't take his deep and steady tone much to become a high and pleasant ring. A laughter, perhaps.

But his face, at the moment, with his cheeks sunken and pale, his eyes two dark and deep holes and his lips dried out and tightly clasped together, just seemed unable to laugh at all.

The young man shook his head, and his curls danced slowly under the moonlight. She had never been so close to him; actually, she had never even been in the same room as him. How strange it was: Cora felt the need of studying his face, that face she had glanced rapidly at least a thousand times while walking frantically back and forth in the halls of the hospital, but she pulled herself together, clearing her throat. Why did she feel like that? She couldn't quite understand it… not rationally, at least. But then again, Cora had always been like that: she was fifty percent mind and fifty percent heart, which meant that she would be logical and clever, but that she would always give herself completely to anyone or anything she loved. And that was also the reason she was a nurse: she had had to study hard and use her brains at their best to achieve good grades, obtain a fellowship and go to Oxford, but the truth was that she had made such an effort only because becoming a nurse was her lifelong dream. Not a doctor, not a surgeon, she wanted to be a nurse, and help directly those in need of support. She just liked the idea of being there for someone… it made her feel peaceful, satisfied and complete… and now, she wanted to be there for that Robert Crawley who had caught her attention and didn't seem too keen on the idea of letting it go.

"Is it also your job to take care of a man who's crying like a baby?", he asked, shrugging vigorously.

Cora got closer to his bed, trying to smile, feeling the need of cheering him up a bit, of reassuring him. "If this man is admitted to this hospital, it is", she just stated, with a determined tone that allowed no objections. She wanted to look professional, even if she wasn't so sure how long she still could hide her curiosity, "I may not be your nurse, but I am here, if you need help", she concluded, and, for the very first time, she found herself in front of her mysterious man, who was sitting upright in bed. She immediately noticed a series of shivers running through his massive body… yes, massive: he was tall and robust; somehow, he managed to look distinguished even in his white, loose pyjama. He smelled good, too: was that a sweet scent of mint and whiskey? Once again, she lowered her blue eyes, feeling a strange warm sensation inside her chest, followed by the accelerated beat of her heart, but she made use of all her self-control –damn, she was a nurse, she knew a couple things about cold blood!- and gently pushed him against the pillow, handing him the hem of the quilt and tucking him in.

Meanwhile, he was resolutely staring at her, Cora could sense it on her skin, and she immediately blushed. Why on earth was he doing that? She silently thanked the darkness of the night, the only cover for her red cheeks and ears -her ears would always turn a bright shade of pink when she felt embarrassed.

"Can you fix these?", he suddenly asked, his voice low, but distorted, abruptly angry, with a tone that almost made Cora jump. She noticed he was pointing at his legs with a melancholic grin, "Fix these. That's the only way you can help me. Otherwise, you may as well go. I am a lost cause".

What had started as a slow whisper gradually soon became a roar. Cora just stood there, motionless, listening to his words. _He felt a lost cause._ Those words made her heart race and her eyes fill with tears… tears she pulled back. She understood why he was behaving that way: it was the trauma. God only knew what he had been through! Still, she felt hurt by his voice, by the raging sarcasm of his tone… A tone that only meant one thing: he didn't want her to be there with him.

Silence had fallen heavily between them, and yet Cora was sure she had heard her own heart break.

Clenching her fists –she found out her palms were sweating… but why?-, she turned around, ready to go away; maybe her mysterious gentleman wasn't so gentle, after all… Before she could even take a step towards the door, she felt five strong fingers touch her sleeve: he had grabbed her arm. Anyway, he wasn't being rude, on the contrary: his grasp was firm, but gentle.. a bit desperate, maybe, which made it automatically also a bit romantic. It seemed impossible that those two big hands could be so nice, that they could touch with such tenderness. And still, they did.

"Miss…", he murmured, and his voice was soft, now. It almost felt like a caress.

Cora turned around to face him, only to find out new tears had started flowing from his eyes… She was so close, she was sure she could actually glimpse the blue sea inside them. "I'm so, so sorry, I was being rude and stupid", he stuttered, and he gritted his teeth, angry… With himself, probably. "You were trying to be nice and I just…".

Surprising even herself, Cora placed a hand on his cheek, cupping it, and started to wipe his tears with her thumb; the instant she realized what she was doing, it was too late… and so she kept on rubbing his short beard, as if it was ordinary. But damn, it wasn't! What on earth had come over her? But, to be honest, she did like that sensation… a lot: the warmth of his face against her fingers, the tickle of his beard… Once again, her heart was decisively getting in the way of her mind. She stopped massaging his cheeks only when she was sure there were no more tears, and so she went to sit on the edge of the little bed. All the time of her sweet ministration, Cora had spied the expression on the man's face: she had glanced astonishment in his features, astonishment and something like a quiet trace of pleasure. A tender and genuine pleasure.

"Don't apologize", she just said, "I know you've been through a lot… or, at least, so they told me".

The look of pleasure in his eyes still wasn't gone when he spoke again, serious, but no longer aggressive. He sounded… relieved. Eager to talk, to share. How long had he craved to speak to someone? "What have you heard?", he asked, looking straight into her eyes.

Cora moved nervously and imperceptibly on the bed: she was going to sound like a stalker, she was sure about it. She had asked a lots of questions about him, to her colleagues and some doctors. "That you are a policeman. That they shot you. That you can no longer walk", she mumbled, her brows suddenly knitted, "And nothing more… as I said, I am not your nurse".

"You do know some things, even if you're not my nurse", he joked, but there was no gladness in his words… Maybe because what he was going to say was very, very painful. "Well, it's not like I can't walk at all. They say I will be able to stand with two crutches, soon enough. Not that I will ever run or jump again, of course… For the moment I just have to rest and wait… I must thank the son of a bitch who shot me in the last lumbar vertebras. Had he hit me in thoracic area, I probably wouldn't even be able to move a finger or breathe".

"Or you'd be dead", Cora stated, ruefully.

Robert Crawley grinned. "Which was probably a better option than the one I got".

In the darkness of the warm bedroom, Cora's face turned red once again, but this time it wasn't awkwardness: she suddenly felt her chest on fire, as if she was going to explode. Which she did, eventually. "Oh, shut the fuck up", she heard herself say, before she could even think or stop herself from swearing so openly in front of a man she barely knew. "You are alive. You will be able to stand, soon enough. You should feel grateful, and merry, and…".

Once again, his temper showed, and so, his tongue sharpened as well. "Yeah, and will I be able to pee without the help of a nurse? Will I be able to make love to a woman again?", he snared, and tried to stand, so he could face on the edge of bed… there was only one problem: he had forgotten about his stitches and his partial paralysis. A shot of pain made him fumble, gasping with his eyes wide open, his hands in search of something to hold on to: he was clearly unable to breathe. Immediately, Cora's instinct acted for her: placing a hand on his chest, she helped him to lie down and mimicked a deep breath with her nose and her mouth. Following her instructions, the young man's breath soon steadied. He looked at her… he was smiling.

He brushed his fingers against her arm, an unexpected touch that made her shiver. "I am so… sorry. I wish I wasn't like this. I usually am not, I don't know…", he whispered, his weak voice nothing more than a murmur, as he tried to justify himself.

Cora politely interrupted him. "PTSD", she just stated, shrugging.

Looking at her from below, he furrowed his brows in a puzzled expression. "Beg your pardon?".

"Posttraumatic Stress Disorder", she explained simply, "You've lived a shocking experience and your brain is responding to the panic and the sadness wearing an armour of anger. You must be careful".

Still sprawled under the covers like a baby –his expression was always a bit childish, actually-, Robert tried to make a joke. "I can only be careful", he exclaimed, his deep voice regaining its strength little by little, "It's not like I can walk towards the window and jump".

Cora just rolled her eyes, in the attempt of cheering him up. Still, the reference to suicide had made her pretty uneasy. "You know what I mean".

It was his time to roll his eyes. "Alright, miss, at your orders", he announced, saluting her to tease her, "And what should I do?".

"I am not your nurse, so…".

He interrupted her with a gesture. "Yes, you're not my nurse. Still, you can give me advice".

In response, Cora chewed her lower lip and her cheek. "I guess… you should talk to someone. Let out everything you're keeping bottled up inside", she said softly, "And I am here, you know. I can listen", she added, and she meant it. She had never meant something that much: she felt she could help him, for real. There was some kind of… chemistry, between them, it was clear, and she was determined to use it to have him smile genuinely once again.

At first, Cora thought Robert wouldn't talk. She'd heard he had refused to speak to some psychologists and psychiatrists, so why would he speak to her? A skinny, young American girl he didn't even know? But Robert, apparently, was there to surprise her, because as she finished speaking, he began to talk slowly. "I was on duty Friday night, patrolling one of the main streets with the car with my colleague, Bates. It's always the same, on Friday: you get a thousand calls from innocent, good people who find themselves witnessing every kind of little crime or incident caused by some drunk: sometimes it's a car accident, sometimes it's a fight, sometimes some theft. On Friday, we got a call from the headquarters: someone had been seen breaking inside a house, just a couple streets away from the block we were patrolling. Two men had been noticed by an elderly woman while they were breaking a window, and they were both hooded. We were the only one who could intervene… and so we did", he paused, his eyes once again looking afar. Maybe, every time he did that, he was living that night all over again. "We ran the sirens and got there as quickly as possible. We are both very prepared agents, Bates and I, and still… we had no idea we were walking into a trap". He stopped once again and looked away, as if the memory was too much for him to bear.

"If you don't want to talk about it…", she tried to mumble, but he shook his head, while something new had appeared in his eyes: was that determination?

"No, I must go on", he stated firmly, inhaling as much air as he could, and kept on talking, his voice a distant whisper, "The point is… They were waiting for us. The two criminals, I mean… They were waiting for me and Bates. When we entered the house, we found one of the them right in front of us, his hands up as a sign of surrender… But that wasn't the truth: while he was distracting us, his partner was hiding in the shadows… and he shot a single bullet". His eyes fell on the bandage that covered his belly as well as his back. "He hit me and I fell, and Bates was so worried about me, he let them escape… I, I… I don't know why me. They took nothing from the house… They just wounded me, and then they were gone", he stumbled on his own words, "I think you know the rest of the story".

While he had been talking slowly, Cora had listened carefully to every single word of his story, noticing every single change of tone or pause. Once again, she wanted to help him so desperately… to make it up to him for this slap fate had given him, without even bothering to explain him why. Anyway, when it came to reply, she could only think of a wide range of banalities. Sighing, she chose one: "I guess you would like to be with your family, in such a difficult moment".

Robert made a funny expression. "With my family? Oh, no. Mama wouldn't help me relax, you can be sure of that. And father, he'd tell me only one thing, over and over again: _I told you, son, not to become a policeman. As always, I was right._ He already said the exact same thing when he came to visit me after the operation, so…", he stated, his voice dripping with melancholy. Did his father really tell him such a terrible thing? She couldn't believe it, it was too horrible to think. Robert probably noticed her face had darkened, so he quickly changed topic, "Still, I do miss my dog".

Cora couldn't help but chuckle, a little relieved. "Your dog?", she asked, clearly jokingly, "Er, how very… romantic".

"There's nothing more romantic than the bromance between Pharaoh and me".

"Pharaoh?", she couldn't help but chuckle, placing a wild lock of dark brown hair behind her ear. She would always do it when she was flirting… but wait, was she actually flirting with him? "What kind of name that even is?".

Robert pouted, crossing his arms, and pretending to be terribly insulted by her question. From the initial tension, the atmosphere had become a playful one. "Oh, come on. The pharaoh was the title of the monarch of the ancient Egypt", he explained, "As I said, I have many passions: history is one of them. Egyptian history in particular. And then I love football, cinema, rock music, books…". He paused, as if a dreadful awareness had just crossed his mind for the first time. "Or, at least, I _had_ many passions… I'm not sure what I'll be able to do, now. They say I'll only be partially paraplegic, but does it make any fucking difference, when I will live as a cripple my whole damn life? Well, at least I won't miss my job… I wanted to become a policeman to help people, that was my dream, but it turns out most of my brave, handsome and young colleagues only wanted to get ahead, to become bloody detectives and that was it… who fucking cared for people? Shit, I did, of course, and that's probably the reason I never got a promotion".

An intense silence fell between them and after a few seconds, Robert sighed. "Sorry, I shouldn't be talking like that".

Cora smiled softly at his authentic concern. "Why, are you afraid to shock me?", she replied, "Me, the young girl who decided to dedicate her life to attend people who bleed, scream and are about to die every day?". However, she suddenly felt upset: so he had lost confidence in himself and in his dream as well. No wonder he was so miserable.

His voice shook her from her thoughts. "Um, so you nurses are basically policemen without guns".

"I do wish I had a gun from time to time… But then of course I'm American…", she joked.

He smiled at her words, but it was clear he was serious and honest, this time. "What I meant is, it does take some courage to be nurses".

She nodded. "Yes, you policemen get all the TV series and the glory, but we're heroes too".

He raised both his hands, as if he was surrendering. "Hey, I'm on your side", he exclaimed, ironically, "And, by the way, you had E.R. with George Clooney and still have Grey's Anatomy. That's not nothing".

They both grinned and Cora took advantage of the good mood they had created to ask him a question she was pretty inquiring about. "Why are you in this room all alone?".

In reply, Robert snorted, but he wasn't angry at her. "My parents thought it would be better. To have a room just for me, I mean… they paid the hospital for it, I guess. You'll have more space, they said. Yes, as if I needed space… to do what? Fucking walk? Guess what? I cannot!", he exclaimed, opening his arms and gesticulating, "No, what I needed was someone next to me. Someone I could talk to".

Immediately, Cora's lips automatically replied to his words. "You can talk to me".

He looked at her, a bit surprised. He leaned back against his pillow and crossed his arms on his chest. "To you? The one who keeps on saying she's not my nurse so she knows nothing and can do nothing?".

"Yes, that one… I think some interesting conversations may turn out". And before she could realize what she was doing, she took his hand in hers. She gulped: she'd almost expected his palm to be cold, but… it wasn't. On the contrary, it was surprisingly warm, and nice to touch. His skin wasn't rough, but soft… she betted his hair were soft too and so, she abruptly decided to have the satisfaction of removing a tuft of his curls from his forehead. She didn't know what she was doing, nor why she was doing it… But damn it, his sweet perfume was all around her, and she did want to live a little!

He laughed. And for the first time, Cora knew that laughter was real. There was no bitterness in it, no concealed suffering, no dark sarcasm. And it was just like she had imagined, a sweet and lovely sound, a sound that made her heart want to sing out loud. He laughed because he wanted to. Maybe because she was holding his hand, who knew.

Robert squeezed her hand a little tighter and their finger intertwined. "Yes. I believe you're right", he muttered, "I think we should do this again".

Deep inside her, Cora knew the timing was perfect. They were close, their breaths caressing the bare skin of their neck, their hands grasped, their eyes fixed on their faces… She could have kissed him. She wondered what he tasted like, but… no, no! She had to be professional. What was she doing? Suddenly blushing, she stood up from the bed, wobbling a bit awkwardly. Her lips still plucked at the idea of that kiss she'd never given. Playing nervously with her thumb nail, she managed to stammer a few words: "Good", she mumbled, "Now, I see you are better. I must get going or they'll fire me". She said goodbye with a ragtag smile, but before she could leave the room, a voice stopped her.

His voice… his happy voice.

"Miss", Robert called her and she turned around to meet his gaze, "So… you'll be back?".

Once again, Cora placed a tuft of hair behind her ear with a little smile. Yes, she definitely was flirting. But what about him? What did he think about her? "Of course", she just replied softly, and was about to exit once again, but she couldn't.

"Wait…", he exclaimed, this time with much more ardour, "Tomorrow?".

Cora thought about it for a moment… and why not? Apparently, he sought to see her again… and so did she. "Yes, tomorrow night".

She had already opened the door when a single word held her. "Sorry…", she heard him mumble.

Cora turned around, pretending to be angry, but the bright smile on her face easily gave her away. "What is it this time?", she exclaimed, rolling her eyes.

The young man smiled back; he was so stunningly beautiful when he smiled, his little lips curved, his eyes and his whole face lighten up in joy. "I am Robert, Robert Crawley. May I ask you what's your name?".

Cora felt her heart running wild inside her chest, though she didn't understand why: she had always known his name, why was she feeling like a teenager with her first crush? She covered her mouth for a second before answering, hiding that smile that was getting wider and wider.

"My name is Cora Levinson. And I am immensely please to meet you… Robert".

 **So… Well, if you follow me, you know what you may be thinking: you're already working on another long fic, why begin this? That's a good question, actually. Point is, I was randomly watching Rizzoli & Isle and an episode gave me the inspiration to write this new AU and I just couldn't stop myself from writing it. Anyway, I plan this to be quite a short ff, seven or eight chapters, so I guess I'll be done with it quite soon.  
Anyway, what did you guys think about this? I'm not completely convinced of Cora's characterization, but you tell me.  
Also, please, REVIEW. And not just because it helps me write more and more, but also because I know I'm going to touch some delicate topics (depression, PTSD and so on), so please, feel free to correct me if I write something that makes no sense. I'm researching a lot for this ff, but still, I want to know what you have to say. However, thanks for reading!**


	2. Chapter 2

The first few days after being shot in the back, Robert Crawley had really thought he had been swallowed by darkness completely, and that there was no way back to the light.

He had heard about Posttraumatic Stress Disease many times before, and still he'd never, never imagined it could be… like that. It was so hard to describe: it was like someone had sucked of all of the different, beautiful colors from the world and had replaced them with obscure shades of grey. And that was just an euphemism, a pathetic similitude to depict a thousand painful, confused feelings that had crawled on him, tortured him inside and out and lead him on a one way street. A one way street called depression.

Lying down, sprawled underneath the sheets of the hospital bed, Robert had really known pain for the first time in his life: first of all, a physical one, since being shot in the lumbar area wasn't exactly pleasing… every time he tried to stand up, or just to move, the wound would stitch so sorely he was sure he was going to faint. Then, from a bodily agony, the burden had passed to his mind, soul and heart: it was absolutely ordinary for him to think a lot –or even too much- when he had nothing to do… But not in that way: the awareness that he was never going to be a policeman again, that he had failed, that he would never be able to run or even walk properly, quickly escalated, and became an obsession. First, it took away all of his hunger and Robert began to refuse most of the food they offered him; then, it deprived him of his sleep, and he spent many nights with his eyes wide open, waiting for something… something that would never happen.

And the doubts… those would be the worst part: why had the two criminals set a trap for him and Bates? Why had they shot him and fled? What was their purpose? Was him really the target of that assault? He just couldn't find an answer to all those unspoken questions… He knew someone was investigating the case, but he could have no information about it, which made him absolutely furious.

At the same time, however, he felt guilty, guilty for being so stupid and being caught into that damn trap so easily.

He had had to hit the rock bottom before he could emerge from his profound darkness and start to breath once again, from time to time… and if that had happened, there was only Cora Levinson to give credit to.

That young, American nurse had made him feel a man once again, just by talking to him; if that wasn't a miracle, he didn't know how else he could call it. Maybe _she_ was the miracle… the perfect nurse and the unexpectedly great friend. She would come to him every Wednesday, Thursday and Friday night –he'd quickly learnt the dates of their weekly appointments by heart- and she would temporary save him… At least, those few hours with her made him feel something positive, compared to the loneliness and despair of the day.

Not that he didn't like his nurse, Anna –even if he was convinced his colleague, Bates, liked her much more than he did: the frequency of his visits had increased suspiciously ever since he'd first met her-, she was kind and diligent… but with Cora, everything was different: she would never behave as a simple nurse, when she was keeping him company… she would be like a lifelong companion, a friend he trusted with all of his heart and mind. And that was the reason he wouldn't talk to any shrink, but he would to her… because he trusted her.

There was no haste in their long conversations: they never interrupted each other and were desirous of knowing more and more every day… which they did. Actually, they had learnt a lot about their ways in the last month: Robert had told her about his family, explaining how he had decided not follow his father in his bank company in order to become a policeman, which had always been his greatest dream; he had spent hours speaking about his need of helping other people, his adventures with Pharaoh –even if she kept on giggling every time she'd heard his good boy's name- and all of his passions… for example, he had found out that they both shared a profound love for music: he was more into old rock and roll artists, his favorite band being the legendary Rolling Stones, followed by Pink Floyd and Jimi Hendrix. Cora, on the other hand, was into more contemporary music… okay, maybe Oasis weren't so modern, but compared to his tastes… Anyway, he'd made her listen to _Exile on Main Street_ or _Atomic Heart Mother_ , while she'd show him all the Oasis discography, explaining carefully which albums and songs she preferred, and why.

They weren't so bad, he had to admit it… Truth be told, he liked those two strange boys from Manchester much more than he'd ever admit to her: it was much better to tease her, pretending that "yeah, they are alright, but nothing more". Still, she had probably guessed that he was beginning to have a soft spot for them. There was one song in particular he had fallen hopelessly in love with.

It was called _She is Love_.

The acoustic guitar of Noel would kick in almost immediately, strumming a jolly rhythm… a rhythm that made him smile, just like Cora. And then his delicate voice would start to sing these sweet, sweet words: words about love, companionship and trust. There was a verse that had especially struck him from the very first he had heard it, spying Cora silently while she listened to the track and mouthed every single syllable by heart:

 _You're in all my thoughts of passion  
And the dreams of my delight  
Whatever stirs my mortal frame  
Well, you keep it warm at night _

Maybe it was just his imagination running wild, but he really believed those few lines described perfectly his relationship –or whatever it was- with Cora. Not only because he thought about her and her delicate silhouette most of the time, nor just because he had dreamed of her more than once –and sometimes in "situations" that made him blush at the sole memory of them-, but more than anything, because she was really "keeping his mortal frame warm at night". Robert had felt so confused, angry, weak and depressed before her arrival… but she had transformed everything. She had given him a shoulder to cry on, a hand to hold tightly and, most importantly, someone he could openly talk to, without feeling ashamed nor judged.

Still, Robert hadn't just talked about his life –or, anyway, what his life had used to be: he had also listened… a lot. Because there was nothing sweeter than to hear Cora's deep and tender voice tell him about her story: the story of an American girl who'd come all the way from Cincinnati, Ohio, leaving her middle-class family behind, to attend Oxford –which had been his university as well and yet he had never been lucky enough to see her. The story of a determined nurse who would neglect her job from time to time… to visit him.

Even when there was an emergency –and he could understand easily when there was one, hearing the frantic pitter-patter of the feet of the nurses in the halls, and their muffled voices whispering quickly- and Robert was sure she wouldn't come to visit him, she'd always, always show up: Cora would come to his room panting, visibly tired and a bit sweaty –which he didn't mind… on the contrary, there was something quite intriguing about her typical sweet smell of violets mixing with the weak scent of sweat on her pearly white skin- and they would talk about… everything. Literally everything… she would tell him about the emergency and he'd listen to her, then he would tell her about his day and their conversation would go on and on, almost until the morning light.

He didn't know if he was actually feeling better… if the depression had gone away. He just knew that everything was dark when she wasn't with him, but that the lights would come back brighter than ever when she walked through that old, aseptic hospital door.

And that's how he felt, helplessly filled with light, when one night she wasn't on duty, she surprisingly showed up in his room anyway. Robert was lying in bed, sleepless as always, and unexpectedly saw her pretty figure entering from the door and closing it delicately, tiptoeing not to wake him up.

"Hello", he suddenly whispered and Cora, caught unaware, jumped back with a squeal. She quickly turned around and glared menacingly at Robert, who put a hand on his mouth, but finally couldn't help laughing his head off. She didn't look particularly amused and, on the contrary, she seemed a bit annoyed by his noisily chuckle… but a little smile, which curved her red full lips sweetly, gave her away: she was really, really happy to see him. As always.

Constantly looking at his face, her smile turning into a teasing smirk, she leaned against the wall and crossed her arms. "Don't you ever sleep?", she asked, raising an eyebrow and marking every word with irony and fake bother.

He grinned in response. "I surely cannot, I must wait for you!".

In the feeble light of the half moon, Robert noticed with gladness her pretty cheeks turn a bright shade of pink. He said nothing, not to embarrass her, but inside his chest, he could feel a certain satisfaction… the satisfaction of knowing he could still impress a young, beautiful girl; but, more than that, the pleasure of realizing that she was comfortable when she was with him… that she didn't judge him, nor pity him. That she was there because she craved to be in his presence.

"Oh, so now it's my fault", she suddenly exclaimed, trying to hide her slight awkwardness with her humor. He liked her humor, very much: it was always delicate and yet sharp. Incredibly clever.

"Without the shadow of a doubt, miss Levinson", he replied playfully, but then his doubts appeared once again: why was she there? He cleared his throat before speaking again: "Though I must admit I wasn't expecting to see you here tonight. It's Tuesday, isn't it?".

Fiddling with a sloppy curl, Cora nodded slowly. "It is… but you know, I wanted to surprise you and my friend Phyllis Baxter, the nurse I always have lunch with, agreed to be my partner in crime, and secretly let me in".

In response, Robert pretended to be unbelievably shocked. "Are you telling me that the hardworking and respectful nurse Cora Levinson has just recklessly broken the rules?".

Amused by his words, she shook her head. "I have… for you, as I said. I've got some surprises ready just for you, mister Robert Crawley".

"Just for me? Oh, how kind! I most definitely feel privileged", he joked out loud, but the truth was, his heart was beating faster than ever: it was the middle of the night and, to be more precise, of her night off… and she was there with him and for him. She could have been everywhere: out with her friends, home watching the television, in a pub with another man… But no, she was there and had prepared a surprise… just for him.

Cora smiled, a little sweetly and a little maliciously. "Yeah, keep on joking, but I know you're curious. I can see it in your eyes".

Of course, she was completely right: he was dying to discover what on earth she had planned for him. "You know me too well", he surrendered, "Come on, show me this surprise".

"Surprise _s_ ", she corrected him, raising her index and her middle finger, "There are two surprises… but let's begin with the first one".

More curious than ever, Robert tried to peek from his bed, while Cora turned around and drew something from her purse… unfortunately he couldn't see well in the darkness of the nighy, so in no way he could guess what she had brought with her. Only when she faced him once again, approaching him and sitting on the edge of bed, he understood what was in her hands: a razor. Why had she brought a razor?

"You said you wanted to shave, but could never find the will to do it…", she began, looking at him with a shy smile, "So I thought… I could do it".

Surely, Robert wasn't expecting a surprise like that. "You?", he stammered quizzically.

"Yes, me", she replied, raising an eyebrow, "I don't see anyone else in this room, unless you have some imaginary friend…".

He grinned at her joke, but immediately came back to the matter that was slightly worrying him. "Have you… have you ever shaved a man?".

"I tried once with father, when I was little… but he promptly abandoned the idea after I almost cut his lip", she giggled.

Robert couldn't help but chuckle in response, a bit nervous. "Oh, your references surely reassure me", he stated, stirring on his bed.

She just shrugged: oh, she was going to manipulate him, he was sure about it. And he'd let her do it… He actually enjoyed it quite a lot. "Listen", she began, a hand in front of her to make her point stronger, "Do you want to grow a Gandalf-like beard? Then fine, it is entirely your choice. Otherwise, there are only two options: you can let me shave it or you can do it yourself".

"Fine", he groaned, defeated, "I'll give you the immeasurable pleasure of shaving my stubble".

Visibly satisfied by her well-deserved victory, Cora smiled. Well, at least, she was happy… a sight to gladden his heart. "Come", she just whispered, "I'll help you sit on the wheelchair".

Oh, the wheelchair… of course. It wasn't like he had another choice: there had been some troubles with his wound, since they had found some new splinters near the spine and had had to remove them at once, so he had never had the chance to try to walk with the crutches.

Slowly, his muscles numb and weak, Robert stretched his legs out of bed, while Cora put both her hands under his armpit and helped him to stand up, as he gritted his teeth in pain for the physical strain. It took him almost a minute to finally stand up –if that was "standing up", by the way…- and finally fall on the wheelchair with a deep sigh, panting.

Cora silently waited for him to regain his full strength before speaking again. "Are you ready?", she asked softly, placing her fingers on the razor's handle.

Robert swallowed nervously. "I am not sure", he admitted, then paused for a second before talking again, "Actually, I am not sure I'm ready to die just yet".

Cora rolled her eyes in response. "Oh well, you were the one who kept on joking about death, not me", she stated, grinning, the blade of the razor in her hand closer and closer to his cheek. "So now you have no right to speak".

"But I…", he tried to protest.

"Shush", Cora interrupted him firmly, almost as if she was scolding a stubborn and spoiled child, "You'll let me do it and you won't complain…".

"I…".

Exasperated, Cora opened her arms with an exhausted groan. "Robert!".

He couldn't help but chuckle at her exaggerated reaction, but felt a warmth inside his chest when she pronounced his name: they were very close, and yet she'd call him "mister Crawley" most of the time… She hadn't, this time, and he savored the particular way she'd articulated that "Robert", stopping on the "r" a little longer than all of his English acquaintances. "Hey, I was just going to say I agree, I'll be silent and let you concentrate on your job… oh, and before I forget, should I die, make sure they leave everything to Pharaoh".

Cora grinned and before he could realize it, the cold blade was touching the skin of his jawline. Immediately, he was surprised: she wasn't clumsy or unsteady… on the contrary, her hands moved with confidence and Robert found that whole situation oddly pleasant. She was a bit slow, perhaps, but that only grew his relish: she was taking care of him… and he couldn't imagine anything better in the world. After she was done, she applied a bit of aftershave lotion she had found in one of his drawers on his cheeks and neck, while Robert had to use all of his self-control as her slim fingers ran all over his face. God, what was she doing to him? Before he could let out an unwanted moan, Cora had finished her ministration and was looking at her masterpiece –which was him, in way.

"Now I understand why you smell of mint… it's your aftershave", she exclaimed, and got up from her knees to put the razor and lotion back, "Okay… ready to begin with the second surprise?".

"Is it as risky as the first one?", he asked sarcastically.

The grin she gave him wasn't a good sign. "Oh, no…", she said slowly, "It's far worse".

Robert's mouth opened automatically. "I forbid you to push the wheelchair out of the window, miss Levinson".

She laughed out loud. "That's not my intention… for now, at least", she threatened him tenderly, just to turn serious once again, "I'm taking you out".

If possible, his lips opened a little more. "What do you mean 'you are taking me out'?".

"That we're going to get out of here for the night and have a beer in the nearby pub".

Was she serious? No, she couldn't be… was she really endangering her successful career as a nurse to take a stroll with him in the middle of the night? "Cora, I… You shouldn't, I don't…", he mumbled confusedly, but she interrupted him.

"I know, I know. It's madness, probably", she began, and then a little smile appeared on her lips, "But you said a thousand times that you felt trapped and wanted to get some fresh hair…".

Robert was overwhelmed. Just overwhelmed by the kindness of that amazing girl he barely knew. "Is there anyone in this world as loving as you are?", he asked softly, his eyes a bit glassy.

Cora didn't reply, nor blushed. She just smiled once again… for him, and him only.

Without saying another word –there was no need, their expressions had already said everything- Robert pushed his wheelchair towards the little toilette of his room and changed his clothes. Cora insisted on helping him, but he refused to let her: he didn't want her to see his body… like that. Wounded, weak and devoid of any strength… of course she was a nurse, she would never be shocked by it, but… he just didn't want to, though he understood it wasn't a rational choice. He slowly and carefully changed into a loose jumper and was ready to go.

Silently, Cora and Robert got out of the room and adventured in the net of halls of the hospital. "Haven't they got some camera or security service in this place?", he asked, looking at her pushing his wheelchair, his inner policeman suddenly awake and particularly judgmental.

Placing a wavy lock of brown hair behind her hear, she grinned. "Yes… on the front door, but not where we're going", she explained, "We're using the backdoor".

She had an answer for everything. Everything.

Soon enough, they found nurse Phyllis standing in the corridor, waiting for them. She smiled softly at Cora, winking at them both. "Go to the end of the hall and you'll find the right door. I'll cover you any way I can… and make sure you have fun for me too!". Cora took her hand in hers for a second as a clear sign of gratitude before they went on.

"She's risking a lot for us", he mentioned, "We must find a way to thank her, should we succeed in our temporary escape".

"I'm risking a lot too, you know", she replied in a whisper.

"What does this even mean?", he asked, "Do you want to be thanked as well?".

Oh, he had a couple ideas on how to thank her… But he had to calm his fervor, he couldn't spoil what was going on between them by making a wrong step, doing something reckless.

What was going on between the two of them, by the way? He surely did know what was going on inside him: he had never felt that way before, surely not for a woman… he had had only two or three relationships and none of them had really made him shiver, laugh out loud, cry of happiness, fill his chest with a warm and odd tickle… But Cora, Cora had been able of changing everything: she had gotten into his life quietly… and quietly she had turned it upside down. She had taken a depressed, lost man and had showed him the way to the real life. Or, at least, a life worth living.

So yes, he did know what was going on inside him: he liked her. Very, very much.

But what could he give her? A brief, imperceptible glimpse at his two almost immobilized legs made his stomach tighten painfully: nothing. He could offer her nothing, because he had nothing: no job, and he wasn't going to accept his parents' money; no strength, considering that he could barely move; and, most importantly, he no longer had any hope.

Well, he had a one, in truth. Only one, constantly wearing a hospital gown, a light trace of rosy lipstick on her pretty mouth and two big blue eyes with the ability of making him happy.

 _Cora_ …

Cora was his only hope.

And yet, he couldn't drag her down with him. It was unfair. The fate that was in store for him was a discouraging and terrible one, while she deserved a future of beauty and success… a success she surely couldn't reach with a cripple by her side. His eyes unexpectedly filled with tears, but he held them back; that what he was always going to be: an useless and depressed cripple.

Oh, and there was another matter: he wasn't completely sure he could be a father, after the accident. Of course, it was far too early to even think about children: they had barely held hands. Still, he had to take stock of his prospects: he knew his paraplegia was only partial and that he would always be in control of his bladder and intestine… but would he be able to have children? He wasn't sure, he hadn't asked the doctor: his life had seemed miserable enough even without knowing every single detail of that nightmare he was going through.

Leaning against the back of his chair with a sigh, a certainty crossed his mind: he was sure Cora was going to want children, at some point. Come on, he just needed to look at her: so conscientious and firm, and, at the same time, so tender and doting. She would be such a just and loving mother.

To be honest, Robert couldn't quite understand the reaction that followed: that thought, the distant and blurry thought of Cora glowing, holding a little baby to her chest, made him burst into tears like a child. He didn't even try to control his emotions, he just let them flow out freely.

 _Let out everything you're keeping bottled up inside._ That's what Cora had told him, the first time they had talked… and he was following her advice, now, crying all of his tears.

Immediately noticing his state of despair, Cora ran in front of him, kneeling down and cupping his cheek, while her free hand roamed on his leg, stroking it slowly. "Robert… Robert!", she exclaimed, the concern clear in the sweet tone of her voice, "Are you okay?".

Robert tried to nod, as her fingers moved from his cheek to his temple, to finally rest in his hair. What was that burning feeling growing at every new touch she gave him? He took her hands in his and placed them on his heart. Not very wise, since now she could feel its accelerated pace … but he couldn't care less: he wanted her to know how she could make him feel.

And, anyway, why did he have to be so afflicted by this chemistry that was growing between them? Why was he torturing himself like that? He was with her, now… their bodies so close, their hands fitting perfectly. He just had to savor that moment… and the future… there would be plenty of time to think about the future. He had to live in the present, now… with Cora.

"Yeah, I've never been better", he managed to reply, his breath still heavy for the tears he had cried, that were slowly beginning to dry. That was when he actually realized what it was like to have Cora's hands in his: it was like an explosion, an explosion of beauty, feelings and colors, all of those colors he thought had left the face of the earth the moment he'd been shot. Before he could pull himself together, he grasped one her palms a little tighter and brought it closer to his face. He kissed it… once, then twice, then so many times he ran out of breath and had to stop.

"What was that?", she asked insecurely, almost stumbling on her own words. Had he just taken her breath away? He smiled at that thought.

"My thanks", he simply explained, shrugging faintly, "I hope it wasn't too forward".

She blushed and didn't even try to hide it, this time. It almost felt like a date… the best date of his life. "It was perfect…", she mumbled, as she stood up to go behind the wheelchair once again, lightly brushing her fingers on his shoulder, "Just perfect".

 _Just like you, Cora_ , he thought, as she pushed his wheelchair out of the hospital backdoor and the fresh, wet air of London hit their faces. But nothing, not even that gust of wind could change Robert's expression.

He was smiling.

 **Hi guys! I'm already back. Thank you for the beautiful reviews you left on the first chapter, I loved them all! Also, I can't thank you enough for following and putting the story among your favs… I wasn't expecting that and it was quite a warm surprise.  
Anyway, a couple of things:  
1) there may be someone who's reading Star System, my other AU, among you, so I must let you know I'm working on the next chapter… I hope to post it soon enough, so you may find out what is going to happen when Robert sees Cora again.  
2) what did you think of this chapter? In particular, what do you think of Robert's emotions and reflections? I'm curious to know. Review!  
Once again, thank you, really. Hope you enjoyed this chapter, a great big hug to all of you. x**


	3. Chapter 3

_You're not perfect, sport. And let me save you the suspense: this girl you've met, she's not perfect either. But the question is whether or not you're perfect for each other. That's the whole deal. That's what intimacy is all about._

In the darkness of the hospital room, Cora stirred uncomfortably on the chair as Robin Williams' character recited every word of his monologue with a feeble smile on his face: she remembered _Good Will Hunting_ very well, she'd always loved the genuine humor and deep meaning of that movie… but she would have never thought it would be so damn hard to watch, sitting next to Robert's hospital bed in the middle of the night.

The point was, it was romantic, and she wasn't in the mood for words of love, at the moment.

She had recently begun to sneak into the hospital every Tuesday, even if she wasn't on duty, just to spend some quality time with Robert. Not that it rationally made much sense, but she liked that, and Phyllis was always happy to help her. In fact, her friend probably thought Cora had the biggest crush on that gentle and handsome patient.

And that was the main problem: maybe Phyllis was right.

As the nights passed, and Cora kept on visiting him, she gradually started to feel… something. She couldn't quite name that "something", because she had never experienced anything like that before… and yet she'd feel it every single time she was with him. When they had tried his crutches for the first time, for example, how they had laughed! She had warned him at least a thousand times to be careful and not to be too fast if he didn't feel confident yet… but, of course, he hadn't listened to her and had jokingly tried to escape from the hospital on his crutches. In that moment, while she was following him, pretending not to be able to keep up with him, she had felt her heart full. But full of what? She didn't know… Just full. Another time, they had played Risiko almost until the morning light and he had clearly let her win… which was why she had started complaining and it had all ended up with a hug and Robert trying to tickle her. Once again, her heart had been full.

And it had never been as full as the time they had spent the whole night talking… talking about his incident. He had opened his heart to her… which didn't happen very often: usually, they would chat a lot about music, cinema, dogs and every other passion they had. He had no trouble speaking of his family as well, but opening his heart… was quite different. It was pretty clear to Cora that Robert tried to conceal all of his feelings, probably to look stronger… but she could see how many beautiful emotions were hidden under that mask he wore. And he had showed it to her himself, in the end, on that night they had talked: he had told her that he was afraid… afraid of the past and the future. Of the past, because he kept on remembering the dreadful night he had been shot, and his constant nightmares would be just another reminder of that experience; of the future, because he had no idea what it was going to hold for him, now that his legs didn't work any longer; but he wasn't afraid of his present, apparently. When she had asked him why, he had smiled at her, his dark blue eyes looking for hers, and he had simply said: "Because you made my present worth living".

And that time, her heart hadn't just felt full: it had nearly exploded.

So, that was the question: what was that feeling? Was that really a crush? And if it was a crush, how was she going to deal with it? She was so scared Robert didn't feel the same towards her. He clearly cared for her, but that meant nothing… she was just so afraid that his trauma and his sense of guilt, an unjustified sense of guilt caused by the PTSD, would keep him away from her.

And now, Mrs. Hughes, the responsible of her department in the hospital, had told her about his offer and she was so afraid it was going to change everything that they had…

"What's the matter?". His deep and low voice, almost a whisper, shook her from those thoughts that had haunted her mind for the past few minutes. She had even lost track of the movie and she noticed just now that Robert had stopped it, and was looking at her, his brows furrowed in concern.

"What?", she muttered, a bit embarrassed by his preoccupation.

Robert sighed. "Cora… I can see you're upset", he said, "Is anything the matter?".

She smiled weakly, in a feeble attempt to ease his mind. Of course, it didn't work, and Robert's expression grew even more distressed. Swallowing, she managed to mumble a few low words, almost as if they were an apology: "No… I'm fine".

For once, he rolled his eyes, exasperated. In fact, it was quite ironic: usually, she would be the one rolling her eyes for his silly jokes and his whims… but Cora was really too emotionally confused to find the amusement in that paradoxical situation. Robert stretched his hand to stroke her arm gently, so gently Cora wished they could just drop that conversation and keep "cuddling" the whole night; but, of course, Robert was not of the same mind.

"Yes, if you're fine, I can most definitely get up and run out of the room. Come on… you can tell me", he exclaimed, ironic… and maybe a little annoyed, but that didn't surprise Cora: when Robert cared about something, he'd always get angry… It was his very own way to show his emotions. So, from a certain point of view, the slight rage in his voice made her smile again.

"Nothing…", she lied, "It was my dad's birthday yesterday. I guess I'm just a bit homesick".

Robert leaned against the pillows of his bed and skeptically raised an eyebrow. "Mh…".

In response, she stirred on the chair. "What?", she asked, shrugging, in a high-pitched tone that would surely give her away, "You don't believe me?".

"It's not that. I do believe you", he replied, thoughtfully, "But I think there's something more you're hiding from me. Of course, I'm probably not even entitled to know what…".

"Okay, fine", Cora grunted, standing up to face him. She needed to let it all out or she was going to explode. "It's about your offer. That's the reason I'm upset".

His vaguely childish features contracted in a genuinely puzzled expression. Really? Hadn't he understood what she was talking about? It wasn't possible. "Offer?", he asked, "What offer?".

Okay, so he really had no idea. Cora took a deep breath before talking again: she needed all the strength she could gather to address that issue that was upsetting her so much. "To become your personal nurse, now that they're releasing you from the hospital", she explained, lowering her eyes, "I know you talked to Mrs. Hughes about it. She told me".

He knitted his brows. "I thought you'd be happy about it", he stuttered, "It's an excuse to see even more of each other".

"An excuse? Robert, please…Let's be honest, we became friends while you were here. Otherwise, do you really think I would have come here in the middle of the night for weeks?".

"Yes, but…".

She abruptly stopped him with a resolved gesture of her hand. "Let me finish. We created a relationship built on trust. Why would I need to be your personal nurse?", she asked, and she knew right away that her voice, that had tried hard to sound firm, was quickly starting to show the storm of emotions that was raging inside her. She paused for a second to catch her breath. "What I'm trying to say is… I don't need to be your personal nurse to take care of you. I want to do it anyway, as a friend. I don't want to be paid to be with you… I just want to do it".

Robert's reply came immediately and was completely unexpected: he started to laugh out loud, but not in gladness. He was angry, melancholic and sad. It was exactly everything Cora didn't want to hear at the moment. "Don't be ridiculous", he exclaimed with a grimace of bitterness.

For a few seconds, Cora stood there in complete silence, her chest raising and falling. She felt humiliated… humiliated by his humor, a humor she just couldn't understand: what was so funny about her speech? She had just said the words that had lingered in her heart for too long. "Oh, so I'm ridiculous now?", she hissed.

Instantly, his expression changed and the Robert she really knew appeared once again in front of her: he'd understood that his reaction had hurt and was sorry about it. "Cora, please…", he began, softening the tone of his voice, "What I mean is, I could never ask you something like that. Being by my side without being paid? You must be mad".

And still, Cora couldn't cool off. "Ridiculous and mad. Go on, Mr. Crawley, what else am I?".

That was the final straw: promptly, Robert slammed his fist against the side of his bed, his face suddenly red in anger and his teeth gritted. Almost frightened by his reaction, Cora took a step back: she had never seen him like that, not even the night they had met. And the situation didn't get better when he started shouting: "For Christ's sake! I don't want you to look after me for free! Because I don't want to be a burden for you! It doesn't matter how close we grew in the past few months, I will always be a cripple, and I can't ask you to take care of me in this state, not as a friend, never as a friend, because you'd start hating me right away, because I'd be a burden nobody deserves! I'll do it only if you accept it as a job, it's the only right thing".

For almost a minute they remained silent, fearing to be caught by some nurse who was not aware of Cora's presence in the hospital. When nothing happened and no one came, Cora was ready to reply… and she wasn't going to do it politely. Anger burning wildly inside her chest, she clenched her fists and looked at him straight in his blue eyes. She could still glimpse the night sea in them, but she forced herself not to fall for them. Not now. Now, they had to talk. "So, practically, you're saying we're not friends", she stated plainly, her voice cold and monotone.

Immediately, he opened his mouth in disbelief: he was no longer angry, just confused. "I never said that", he replied, laughing nervously.

Cora crossed her arms on her chest. "Didn't you?".

He just sighed. "You know what I meant".

"Of course… you want to drive me away".

"Cora…", he whispered, but she wasn't even listening anymore.

"Because after all we've been through together, you still don't care about me", she finished, and she knew her eyes were glassy. God, why did she have to be so emotional sometimes? Why couldn't her rationality prevail, at least for once?

"Cora, don't… don't be silly", he said, stumbling on his own words, "Of course I care about you, of course I do".

"Really?", she asked, and her voice broke hopelessly, as tears came streaming profusely down her face; she covered her eyes with both her hands, as a sob erupted from her mouth, followed by another, then another, until she just couldn't stop weeping. "Then why are you pushing me away when all I want is to be beside you?", she managed to conclude, her voice no more than a whisper, as her body shook violently.

At the beginning, Robert said nothing… he probably didn't know what to say. He just sat there, his eyes shiny under the feeble light of the moon and the stars coming from the window. Then a word, two simple syllables came out of his mouth: he pronounced them slowly, carefully, lovingly. "Cora…", he said, and then paused for a few moments, uncertain. The only sound filling the void between them was her constant and hoarse weeping… she felt so silly, standing there, incapable of doing anything but crying… the only thing she could do was showing her heart to him. Now, it was his turn to act: what was he going to do about it?

And as that thought quickly crossed her mind, in that exact moment… he stood up. Robert, the man who could barely put one foot in front of the other, the man who was in pain, who had been hurt in his back and his heart… stood up. Of course, it was a slow process: his eyes determinedly fixed on her, he sustained himself with his hands on the mattress, gritting his teeth in agony. Then, when his back was upright, he managed to stretch both his legs out of bed. He couldn't leverage on them, so he reached out to grab his crutches and, with a grimace that expressed all the pain that he was feeling, he stood up.

Yes, Robert stood up in front of her, his crutches under his armpits.

Accurately, he began to walk slowly. It almost broke her heart to see how much it costed him just to take a step towards her: his numb legs, which couldn't feel nothing more than a weak itch, were trying desperately to reach her, not caring about the strain.

"Please, don't cry… Please".

Awoken by his broken voice, she slowly raised her eyes to meet his: they were full of guilt and something else… some emotion she couldn't quite decode, but that was enough to make her knees feel weak: somehow, she knew he was really worried about her.

Suddenly, her nurse instinct overcame her emotions, as she sniffed, trying to pull back those tears that kept on flow freely, careless of her attempts to look tough. But in a way, it was okay: Cora wouldn't usually cry, but crying wasn't for weak people… it was for people who cared. "Robert", she called him, every syllables of his name a deep sob, "Please, be careful, you shouldn't be on your feet, not yet, don't…".

Before she could end the sentence, his voice interrupted her. "Come here", he muttered. He didn't need to say another word: in a moment, Cora opened her arms and wrapped them around his neck, desperately needing to feel his chest against her, to hear his heartbeat, to sense his breath against the exposed skin of her neck. She knew from the beginning she had to be careful, because his wound was still very painful and his limbs were weak, but she hugged him anyway. She hugged him because she wanted to believe that whatever it was that she felt for him, he could feel a bit of it too. Because she cared for him. Because she craved to spend as many good moments with him as she could… even when they fought.

Almost naturally –or at least it felt very natural to Cora- he lowered his head and leaned it against his shoulder, resting on it, smelling her scent. "I am fine, Cora. Really, I am", he murmured, his voice muffled and low, "I'm not pushing you away. I could never push you away and you know it. All this time I've been here, stranded in this bloody hospital room, you've been my only consolation, the only one who really helped me get through the mess I was living. You and you alone. You'd come to me and save my life without never asking anything in return".

"I didn't want anything. I wanted to spend some time with you".

"I know. So did I. Because we're friends, we are. It just took you three months to become the best friend I ever had and I know you know it's true. You understand me in ways no one else can, you share your dreams and passions with me… and, most importantly, you put up with all the crap I say and see all my flaws, and yet you manage to stand by my side, teasing me only a little".

Cora smiled softly against the warm skin of his neck. "Maybe I should start teasing you more".

He chuckled sweetly into her hair. "Maybe", he whispered, and nuzzled her ear with his nose, "What I mean, Cora, is just… we're friends. But I don't want to burden you with my weakness. I am partially paraplegic, there's nothing I can do about it, and I'm sure you'd take care of me for free, because I know you: you are kind, determined… and irreplaceable, I'd dare say. Still, I just can't let you do this. It's your job to look after people in need of help, so let me pay you… Cora, I am what I am: a burden. I am well aware of that… I will always feel nothing but a slight itch and shots of pain in my legs, as I grow weaker and weaker every day and I even more unnerving. I will need people to push my wheelchair when I'm not strong enough to walk, people to help me dress and undress, people to… well, to make me live what I've got left of life, I guess. I don't want you to bear all othis, not without a salary. It would be unfair, I wouldn't feel right. I care too much about you to let you be beside me for free for the rest of my life… I say this as a friend, Cora".

As he stopped talking, Cora held him even closer, even more tenderly: she wanted him to know how much those words he had said meant to her, even if she didn't agree with them all. How could she? He could never be a burden to her, it didn't matter to her if he was partially paraplegic: that didn't change who he was. Because yes, she liked who he was, she liked everything about him, from his ash blonde curls to his stubbornness, from his humor to his soft smiles… that was Robert. And who cared about all the rest?

"How I wish I could hold you… really hold you", he sighed, clear disappointment in his voice: of course his crutches didn't allow him to use his arms to hug her. She smiled softly, her head buried in the crook of his neck: he could be so sweet when he wanted to. It was actually funny how he tried to hide his soft side, when she had seen it from the very first moment they had met.

"I'm holding you for the both of us", she replied, whispering in his ear, as she squeezed him more tightly, grasping his curly hair and rubbing his back vigorously. To be honest, perhaps she was being a bit too forward, but the way he just leaned his forehead against her cheek, in need of as much human touch as he could have, gave her the greenlight.

"Thank you", she heard his muffled voice say, "You know, I do have the impression I'm hugging you too".

They remained like that for a few minutes, their body gently but desperately pressed one to the other, healing each other's souls, telling each other everything that words just couldn't express. Just to know he was so close to her made her heart feel full, once again. That hug, that hug he couldn't physically give her, but that was holding her anyway, was everything she needed.

"Are you tired?", she asked, suddenly aware of his condition. He'd walked with his crutches just thrice and his body surely wasn't ready to stand up for long at the moment. She cupped his cheek softly and took a look at him: although he was trying hard to hide it, he was trembling.

Lowering his curly head, Robert sighed. "As much as I hate to admit it, I am", he said, "Could you help me to get into bed again?".

"Of course, come here", she replied and she went to his side to sustain him with both her arms. The few steps that separated Robert from the bed proved to be a real torture for him, but she never let go of him. She couldn't and she didn't want to. Deep inside, she knew that: she would have done anything to help him, even accept an offer that in a way offended her intentions.

Finally, Robert got into bed again and as if he could read her mind, he promptly spoke again. "So… will you accept my offer?", he asked, making goo-goo eyes at her.

Cora laughed at his sweet attempt to manipulate her and decided to tease him a little. "Actually, I should tell Mrs. Hughes who should therefore communicate to you my decision".

He groaned. "I'm sorry I didn't ask you personally…".

Cora smiled: sometimes he worried about such silly things. "What did she say, anyway?", she suddenly asked, curious.

"Who?", he replied, shaking his head: it looked like he had just woken up from a very vivid and realistic dream. Cora indulged for a second in the hope that maybe the cause of so much distraction was the smile she had given him.

"Mrs. Hughes, you doofus", she exclaimed, grinning at his funny expression when she addressed him with that nickname, "As far as she knows, you shouldn't even be aware of my existence".

"Oh, well", he replied, shrugging, "I just said you had come to my room to help me a couple of times at night and that you seemed just right for the job. Besides, my parents paid the hospital so much to have me treated well that I don't think she even cared about it: she was like 'you want that girl? There you have her!'. It wasn't hard".

"So she basically sold me", she giggled, raising her eyebrows ironically.

"No", he whispered, and lightly brushed his fingers against the back of her hand, "Because I need you to accept the offer. Otherwise, I'd never force into this".

She seized the moment and held his hand, savoring the moment as her thumb traced the contour of his knuckles. "Of course I accept, doofus".

He quietly shook his head, looking at their intertwined hands. "I'd tell you to stop calling me that, but I'm too happy to spoil this moment", he suddenly said, causing her to laugh a bit; then he looked for her eyes and when they finally met, Cora got lost in them and was so happy about it: it was like drowning in a deep blue sea of beauty, in a warm ecstasy. She knew she was staring, but he didn't seem to be bothered about it… On the contrary, he quickly went on talking: "Cora… what about another hug? Now I can hold you too, you know".

She blushed at his tender offer and nodded slowly: he was so incredibly cute when he surprisingly showed his sweet side. That was her Robert. Actually, she couldn't help but ask herself how many people were actually privileged enough to see that part of him… was she one of the few? Or maybe… was she the only one? Of course, she had no idea. But she liked to dream a little.

Once again, she passionately but delicately held him in her arms, resting her head against his chest so she could listen to the sound of his heart beating… How wonderful it was: to know he was there, to know he was with her… alive and in all of his beauty. Immediately, he drew her closer to him, placing both his strong and big hands on her shoulders and then on her back, that he soon started to rub gently.

So, in the end, she really had accepted… well, if that was a way of seeing him again every day, it was completely worth it. But there was something else she had to accept: she had fallen in love with him. Hopelessly and completely… Was Robert going to accept that too?

 **Here I am again, guys! Thanks to all the people who followed the story, reviewed it or put it amongst their favs. It did help a lot!  
Now, what did you think of this chapter? Cora finally understood the nature of her feelings… but is she going to reveal them to Robert?  
Anyway, I'm afraid I won't be posting for a while, since I have to study for university… But I hope I'll find some time and I'll keep on writing as much as I can.  
Once again, thanks everyone and do REVIEW! x**


	4. Chapter 4

"Turn around once again", he pleaded, the expression on his face ambiguously between a small, sarcastic grin and a begging, innocent scowl; she rolled her eyes, clearly fed up by his request –she had been turning around for minutes, by then-, but with a little, naughty smile, she decided to be lenient and she let him take a look at her.

For the umpteenth time, Robert remained speechless before the vision her, her curls softly loosened on her bare shoulders, the light shade of blue of her dress mirroring the color of her eyes, contouring her tiny body perfectly and enlightening elegantly every soft curve of her silhouette. Deep inside, Robert couldn't help but being proud of his choice: that dress looked amazing on her.

"It was so kind of you to invite me to this dinner party and buy me this", she muttered sweetly, fingering the hem of her dress to take a better look at it, "You shouldn't have".

Robert just grinned. "Don't flatter me too much, there's no reason to", he exclaimed, and pulled the lever of his wheelchair to come closer to her, "Actually, I'm being quite selfish: I can stand less than half of the people who are coming and I need your help to get through the night".

"Don't be ridiculous", Cora exclaimed, rolling her eyes and shaking her to head to mock him, "You're not going to war, it's just your sister and some friends".

"You say so just because you never met my sister and her so called friends".

In fact, his sister Rosamund wasn't that bad. She was only a year and a half older than him, which had caused some little troubles during their childhood –pranks, mockeries, mischiefs…-, but they did get along, somehow… maybe because she was a rebel too, in their family: thus her young age, Ros had decided to marry a college friend who was the son of a simple florist… and their parents hadn't looked kindly on their union. How could they approve someone who belonged to the middle-class, when all they'd ever wanted was to see their daughter escorted by some duke or count? Marmaduke Painswick -that was the name of her husband- was a sweet young man, but a very ambitious one as well, a trait he shared with Ros and that her brought them close very quickly. And yet, though they had broken all the rules to be together, like Romeo and Juliet, they were doomed to a similar fate: a few months before, Marmaduke had been diagnosed with lung cancer and they still had to figure out the gravity of the situation. He was a fit guy, Marmaduke… he didn't even smoke. And yet, sometimes destiny liked to play games with humans that they could barely understand.

He had told that story to Cora, who had almost cried listening to it. Robert smiled at that thought: she was so strong and yet so sensitive, that young American girl. Anyway, hearing how Ros was standing by her husband side against all odds, had somehow convinced Cora that his sister was a great woman… and she was, actually. No, she definitely wasn't the problem: all the others, they were the real issue. All of those "friends" he had never really liked or cared about, but who were sons and daughters of business men and nobles, and so he just had to hang out with them. The young viscount sighed deeply: he didn't want them to ask him question, he didn't want them to look at him in those conditions, he didn't want them there at all. But Ros had set the date and he had no say in the matter: it wasn't a particular occurrence, but she was probably worried about him… he basically never called, he surely never went out and he was particularly grumpy; she just hoped to cheer him up, and so she had decided to organize a dinner party at his house with all of those "friends" they shared.

It was a drag, but he was willing to stand it for two reasons: one was Rosamund… and the other one had probably something to do with the fact he had invited Cora to that dinner. He smiled, tilted his curly head and looked at her: his nurse, his best friend, his sweet American girl. She was most definitely going the save the night. She was just about to sarcastically reply to his previous statement about Rosamund and her friends, when the doorbell rang. Robert sighed: they had arrived. From that moment on, a flood of people began to knock on his door and enter… all faces he knew, but also faces he felt no need to see: they greeted him, shook his hand, patted his back, as nothing had ever happened… but their faces told another story: they pitied him. When they looked at him, they saw a wreck.

It was almost eight o'clock, and while Cora was showing his guests the way to the table she had marvelously set for dinner, she finally made it too: Rosamund was there, her amber red hair combed over her head in a very elegant bun, as a creamy white dress wrapped around her body beautifully. Pulling the lever of his wheelchair, Robert approached her and she lowered her head to kiss his cheek delicately.

"Marmaduke?", he then whispered, holding her hand delicately.

Ros smiled softly, melancholy printed on her features and drown in her blue eyes. "He wasn't too well. He didn't feel like coming, he was afraid he would spoil the night with his… bad mood", she replied and Robert nodded, a knot of anguish stuck in his throat.

As that upsetting feeling started to invade his mind, the doorbell rang again… and there he was: Simon fucking Bricker. Robert automatically frowned: Bricker was certainly the last person he wanted to see on earth. He was his father's personal assistant… and he was pretty good in his job, Robert wasn't certainly going to deny that. But there was a problem: he was an absolute asshole. He was such a suck-up, constantly agreeing with his father about everything, always criticizing him and Ros for the choices they had made. Who the hell did he think he was to treat them like that? He behaved as if he was in control of the whole world, as if just because he was his dad's employee, he could also mock him, judge him and talk behind his back. He was sneaky, to say the least, with his pale blue eyes and his sunken long face. And there he was, right in front of him.

"I'm very sorry, Robert", he immediately said, an overdramatic look on his face, and shook his hand firmly, "If you had worked in your father's office, of course none of this would have happened". Here it was, he didn't even have to wait for it: the low blow. He was of course expecting it… but so early? It was despicable even for an idiot like Bricker. Closing his eyes to find the strength not to kick him out, Robert grunted: he just couldn't stand him… every time they met, that man just managed to get on his nerves. And actually, the fact he went to sit down beside Cora, with a big smirk on his face, didn't help.

Well… the evening wasn't beginning in the best way.

As the dinner went on, Robert couldn't stop doing two things: one was wildly drinking his red wine, the other was staring at Bricker and Cora with a certain grudge. The carrot man liked her, it was pretty clear: he talked to her nonstop, probably making his usual stupid jokes. Who knew, maybe he was even making jokes about him, about that young viscount who had done everything wrong in his life… Cora smiled back to him, sometimes she even laughed, but she never blushed. That, at least, was a small relief.

Suddenly, Rosamund, who was sitting next to him, nudged him softly. "I can see you like her", she whispered in his ear, a small grin printed on her red lips, "That Cora Levinson, I mean".

Robert, who was still sipping his wine, needed all the concentration he could get not to spit it all in his plate: he wasn't expecting Ros to be so… direct. Nor he was expecting her to understand the feelings he had for Cora. "Well… yes, of course I like her", he said, shrugging, and placed his glass on the table, "She's a great nurse, she is helping me a lot".

In response, Rosamund just rose an eyebrow inquiringly. "Don't play the fool with me, Robert, I am your sister, I know you too well", she stated firmly, "She's very pretty, I can see that. And I bet she's very smart and sweet as well. And the way you look at her…".

Blushing a little more at every new word his sister was saying, Robert was going to complain, but before he could, a slow, clammy voice interrupted him. "What are you two talking about?", Simon said, particularly loudly, "Robert, your father never told you it's very rude to whisper in someone's ear during a conversation at dinner?".

His father, his father, _his father_. It was always Robert's father. Didn't that idiot have a father of his own? Why did Bricker always have to make him feel guilty about leaving his father business? Why did he always have to be so nasty? Was he jealous, perhaps? Jealous of him? A man who could barely stand up and whose future was more uncertain than ever?

Before he could act on impulse and reply in a very rude way, Rosamund saved him with a good, old lie. "We were talking about Robert's perspectives", she explained very politely.

"Oh, this is interesting!", he exclaimed, smiling sneakily at him. Yes, as if he cared at all, the scoundrel. "Have you already decided what job to take on?", he added, and maybe it was only Robert's imagination, but he was damn sure that the tone of his voice was not kind, but somewhat insulting, as if he was trying to show to everyone what failure of a man Robert Crawley, viscount and son of an Earl, had become; as if he wanted him to be an object of ridicule.

"Well, I…", he cleared his throat nervously –and even angrily, though he faintly tried to hide it-, "I don't know yet, to be frank. I graduated in Law before becoming a policeman, so I guess I have some employment opportunities. Maybe I should just try as a lawyer… or as a professor in some university, I don't know, they're not easy paths, I am well aware of it. And I have to see how it will work now that I am…", he paused for a second, putting down his fork and knife, searching for Cora's eyes and seeking for a help she could not give him… but what could he say? _Now that I am…_ what? Different? Ruined? Wrong? What was the right word to describe the shadow of a person he had become since the accident? He swallowed and looked down at his legs before speaking again: "Now that I am the way I am", he whispered.

Bricker laid back against his seat, nodding gravely. He was damn good at playing the part of the pitiful, benevolent friend… but Robert knew him well enough to understand that that meek behavior was just the prelude of another of those bombs he tirelessly dropped on him. "Of course, you're going to do something… inventive… as always. Even if, actually, I'm quite relieved Robert decided to become a policeman… That's the reason his father, Lord Grantham, took quite an interest for me and decided to rely on me", he started explaining, stabbing in quite an aggressive way a potato in his plate, "To be honest to you all, I do think he will leave the business to me, once he retires".

On the table fell an intense, heavy silence and in less than a second the tension was palpable. What was that parody of a man implying? That his father, that Patrick Crawley would have preferred to leave his possessions to that disgusting opportunist, who of course was good in his job but had no respect nor gentleness, than to him, his own son who had decided to follow a dream? And what about Ros, who was his first daughter? Was she out of the games too, since she decided to marry for love and not for convenience, as their parents had wanted to? How dared Bricker insinuate such things in a public dinner? Instinctively, Robert turned to Cora –his savior, his best friend, his angel-, but her lips were shut, her eyes were lowered, unreachable to him.

It was Ros who spoke first, breaking the silence. "Oh, this is never going to happen, Simon", she stated peremptorily, looking at Bricker right in his pale, washed out blue eyes.

He just shrugged, as if he was talking about a football match or the weather. "Be careful what you say, Lady Rosamund", he replied, "You never really know. I've been your father's assistant for years, now. And I never let him down, unlike someone else".

It was in that moment that Robert's heart broke. _Someone else_. Those two words didn't leave any room for imagination: they were referred to him. This time, Ros took the mask of fake politeness off and her mouth became a straight line: "Papa is not going to leave anything to you. Not while Robert and I are alive". Alive? Was Robert really alive? At the moment, he couldn't quite tell.

All those feelings became too much for him to bear, and before he could think of some clever words to bring Bricker back into line, he murmured a pathetic pretext: "If you'll excuse me, I think I might need to get some fresh air".

"Robert…", Rosamund whispered, trying to hold him back.

As much as he didn't want to leave her, he didn't reply and, turning his wheelchair without looking at anyone, he got out of the house and into the garden. He got through the door and was really glad that no one followed him: there, alone, he could finally breathe… breathe and think. Why did his need to help people, to become a policeman, had always to become such a burden? He'd already paid the price for his decision, he had lost his job, his legs and, sometimes he also thought he had lost the chance to live a real life. And then there were people like Bricker who reminded him what a loser he was… a loser who had betrayed his family and who had let them all down.

"Robert…", a low, sweet voice called his name, taking him back from his thoughts, "It's freezing out here. You're going to catch a cold".

Here she was: Cora. His nurse, his best friend, his sweet American girl.

"Do you have a cigarette?", he asked, his eyes burning for the need to turn the wheelchair around and find peace in her beauty, but his pupils still proudly and obtusely fixed on the night sky, "Because if you don't have one, I don't really see why you are here".

He heard her footsteps slowly approaching on the grass. "I didn't know you smoked", she just whispered and a warm, little hand slipped reassuringly on his shoulder.

Closing his lids tightly, he took a deep breath: the touch of her hand made him shiver much more than the cold, but he couldn't show all the feelings she gave him. Not now. "I usually don't", he snapped, "But I don't know what I'd give to light one up, at the moment. And my coughing and the smoke would be the perfect companions for my anger and my frustration".

Her hand slid a bit lower on his chest, at the height of his heart. "You're not yourself. Let's get in", she said, her voice still a murmur.

It was then that Robert started to lose control: _he was not himself?_ And what about her, then? She had watched him being humiliated by Bricker and hadn't even tried to stop him; on the contrary, she had smiled and laughed with that bloody man half the time. He tried to master the tone of his voice, but it was getting harder and harder: "No, you don't understand. I don't want to get it. I don't want to enter that house again knowing I won't be able to stand up and hit that fucking prick right in the face".

"What are you…", she began, but then she suddenly understood and she lowered her big, blue eyes, "Oh, you mean Simon Bricker".

To hear her wonderful voice pronounce the name of that son of a bitch was too much for him. "Why don't you just call him Simon, while you're at it?", he almost shouted and, for the first time since she had followed him, Robert turned the wheelchair to face her, "I… I fucking can't believe you chatted and flirted with him while he was visibly and arrogantly provoking me, and, and… and insulting me, just because I chose to follow my dream and to be a different person from the one my father wanted me to be… I… I never let him down, it's not true, I'm not a failure, I am not…". Suddenly, his voice broke and he began to sob, tears flowing profusely from his eyes; damn, he didn't want Cora to see him like that, but the more he tried to hide his feelings, the more they showed themselves, making him weep like a baby.

"Hush, Robert, hush. Please", rapidly, Cora kneeled in front of him, careless of the wet grass that was surely going to soak her dress, and she took his hands in hers, rubbing the back of them with her thumbs, "Come here…", she whispered, and as much as Robert craved nothing less than be held by her thin yet strong arms, he immediately pulled back, as if her nearness annoyed him.

"Leave me alone", he cried, sniffing, and clenched his fists, "The whole dinner you just smiled at him, as if you agreed with him and everything he said about me".

Cora was clearly mortified by his reaction, but her mouth opened in surprise only when he spoke those words. "I never did such a thing", she immediately explained, suddenly serious, "I was just trying to be polite and not to interfere… I'm your nurse, what was I supposed to do? Stand up and yell at him to shut his mouth?".

"I said, leave me alone", he repeated, burying his face, now covered with bitter tears, in his hands. He felt so useless, so wrong, so… he couldn't understand why he kept on doing and saying things that hurt her and that he did not believe in… but he just couldn't stop: "Why are you even here with this sad, useless weirdo, by the way, when you could be inside having fun with much more successful, happy people?".

And right then, when he stopped talking, Cora's feelings exploded: she abruptly pulled away from him, tears in her eyes so clear under the starlight, and she stood up right in front of him, her fists clenched, her hair messy because of the breeze, her lips opened in anticipation of what she was going to say… or, actually, yell. "Because I love you!", she shouted, and Robert felt his heart stop at those words, "Because I don't care about any of them, if I can be with you! Because you are my world and I die every damn time you cry, you criticize yourself, you feel sad and frustrated. Because I want to be beside you, always. I can see that you're still shocked by your trauma, I can see how depression still hides inside you and makes you become a different, worse man than the one I know… but I don't care! Because I love you! I love everything about you! From your outbursts to your gentlemanly ways, from your curls to your blue, big eyes… I just love you". It was her time to weep, now, and she immediately put a trembling hand in front of her mouth, to cover the sound of her sobs. Robert, for his part, had frozen on the spot: so… she loved him? Like, for real? He had… sensed there was something between the two of them… but love? God, why would she love someone like him, when she could literally have anyone? She was beautiful, sweet and clever… he was just the shadow of a man who used to wear the same clothes and live there. A man who used to have dreams, even. He sighed, thinking about the many times he'd already hurt her: she had once told him she usually didn't cry very often -and he believed her-, and yet, he had managed to tear down her walls more than once. He passed a hand through his curls nervously… he just wished there was something he could do, he wished he could stand up, hold her close, take her back to the house in his arms and then kiss her, kiss her until they both forgot all the pain and the misunderstandings.

But those were only hopes: he was stuck on that wheelchair. And silent and still on that wheelchair he remained.

"Do you love me, Robert?", her shaking voice suddenly interrupted the stream of his dark thoughts, "I know you care about me, I can see that. But what about… something more?".

His first instinct was to stay quiet… he had to admit the truth, to her and even to himself, because he had tried so hard to ignore that fire that burned inside him every time he was with her, but now he could no longer live that lie… and yet, he couldn't, he couldn't say it out loud, for the answer to the question she had asked was just going to hurt her more and more. How do you say to someone who loves you that you return that feeling… but that you just can't let anything happen for their own sake?

"Just tell me if you do", she pleaded, her voice almost a whisper, "Please…".

"Cora…".

"Just fucking tell me already!", she snapped, as another tear ran down her face, crossing her cheek to reach her chin and neck, a teeny waterfall shining under the moonlight.

Sighing deeply, Robert stretched out his arm, offering her his hand to take, hoping to just convince her to get inside at last, but she didn't even look at it… She remained still, her bare shoulders pale in the faint light, her body trembling, her nostrils flared. She wanted an answer… and she wanted it now. "I…", he began, putting his hand on the back of his head in embarrassment: though he didn't want to say those words, it was now or never. It was now… or he was going to lose Cora. "Of course…", he finally stammered, and from that moment, the sentences started to flow freely out of his mouth, as a mantra, as a speech he had revised over and over again inside of his head, but he had never found the courage to actually give, "Of course I love you. How could it ever be otherwise, when you're the gentlest, sweetest, most brilliant and beautiful girl I have ever known? You came into my life and made me remember that, though it didn't look like it, there was still hope. You made me remember of who I was and could still be, you gave me your friendship and affection senselessly… And all I know is that, even if I'm a bloody cold English gentleman, at a certain point, I just couldn't bear the thought of being without you. I needed to see you, to hold you, to look into your big blue eyes and admire your soft smile", he paused for a second, his heart pounding so hard he was sure they could hear it from the house… Now came the hardest part: "So yeah, of course I love you. But I… I just can't… you know I can't".

Cora's face, that had grown happier and hopeful at each new word he'd pronounced, suddenly became a mask of sadness once again, "Don't say it… Don't say you can't…".

He shook his head sadly. "Cora, we already talked about this… in a way. I… I already explained to you that I don't want to be nobody's burden, least of all yours. That's why I hired you as my personal nurse instead of just having you come here simply as a friend who…".

"But we're not talking about friendship here, are we?", she exclaimed, getting closer and taking both his hands in hers… they were so tiny and cold, he just wanted to warm her, but now was not the right time, "We're talking about love!", she added, a sad smile appearing on her face.

He couldn't look at her… he just couldn't. "That's the point, I don't think I…", he murmured, lowering his head, "I don't think I can do this. I don't think it would be fair".

Grasping his fingers even tightly, her voice became serious, almost enraged: "So this is your great plan? Not to touch a woman for the rest of your life?".

"I… don't know. I really haven't thought about that".

"Well, maybe you should start to".

Robert just shrugged. "I know I don't want to touch any woman who's not you… but I can't be with you, either".

Cora pulled back, biting her lower lip, and, at the beginning, she said nothing. She was not looking at him, she was just staring at the London skyline. "Alright… I see", she finally exclaimed, clearly trying to control her tone, "It doesn't matter how hard I try, I'll never have you. Never". And that said, she turned her back to him, walking out of the garden. The pace of her footsteps accelerated, until she started running, disappearing into the night. Disappearing from him… her sobs a lonely echo into the deserted streets of the neighborhood.

He wanted to call her name, to have her stay, but no word came out of his mouth. He just stood there, his mouth opened but silent, paralyzed.

From the house, the familiar sound of an acoustic, melancholic guitar started playing: C major, followed by F and then the arpeggio lingered on the G a bit longer, in the most gloomy way. That chord, that absolutely insignificant G seemed to open a hole in his heart, his soul, his stomach. And then the voice: a rough voice, that hid a sad side. Robert sighed, he knew that damn song too well. It was _I hope that I don't fall in love with you_ , by Tom Waits. Who was the fool who had put it on?

 _Well I hope that I don't fall in love with you,  
'Cause falling in love just makes me blue…_

"Blue" was an euphemism: he felt as if the weight of the whole world leant on his shoulders, pressing him down, crushing him. He had been feeling that way most of the time ever since the accident, but now… it was different. Because he had lost the last spark of hope he had and for some obtuse reason he couldn't quite figure out, he hadn't even tried to hold her back. He sighed: as he had told her that night when she had cried in his arms at the hospital, she had saved his life; and if there was something he could do in return, it was not to smash and destroy hers.

 _Well if you sit down with this old clown, take that frown and break it,  
Before the evening's gone away, I think that we could make it…_

He surely was a clown… he clenched his fists tighter on the armrests of the wheelchair: only a clown could be so pathetic. Why hadn't he stopped her? Was it his depression? Was it getting in the way of his happiness once again? He didn't know, all he knew was that the fault was his, anyway.

 _And I hope that you don't fall in love with me…_

Yeah, why had she fallen in love with him, by the way? He was no big deal. Just a sad man, the memory of someone who was boring, anyway. What did she see in him?

 _Turn around to look at you, you're nowhere to be found,  
I search the place for your lost face, guess I'll have another round…_

She was nowhere to be found too, disappeared into the night, as the pale light of the moon and the lampposts created a series of shades on her white bare shoulders. He already missed her. She was nowhere to be found and he felt so helpless, so lonely without her. A doubt sneaked upon him: and what if he had been wrong all along? He had thought he could just choose for the both of them: he didn't want her to lose her time on him, on his infirmity and his futility, but what right had he to decide for her? Robert still remember how angry he had felt when his parents had determined he could not be a policeman, how he had fought back, because he knew it was his choice and he knew it was worth it. Maybe, for her, it was the same: the time spent with him was no burden. Maybe she really understood what it meant to love someone whose mind was corrupted by fear, doubts and depression and whose body was never going to be the same. In the end, she was a nurse… and his best friend, as well. So… what if he had been wrong? What if he had hurt her for nothing?

 _And I think that I just fell in love with you._

The song started fading in the darkness of the night, leaving him speechless. Or, at least, almost speechless, since two simple, heartfelt sentences kept coming out of his mouth… as a mantra, as a prayer. As a plea of love.

"Oh, Cora, where are you now? Please, come back".

 **Hey guys, how are you? Everything okay? Sorry for my absence, I do feel guilty about, but as some of you may know, I've been through some rather harsh times and inspiration just didn't seem to come my way… but I'm back! So, what did you think of this chapter? Don't hate me for the ending, haha. Please, do review and let me know xxx love all of you and your reviews!**


	5. Chapter 5

She was surprised to find the door unlocked. Holding her breath and lowering her dark brown head for a fleeting moment, she opened it, just to find the house deserted, immersed in the intangible darkness of the night. For the first time ever since she had fled the woeful and horrendous mess the dinner party had turned into, she unlocked the screen of her mobile to check the time: it was 3 a.m.. God, how long had she been wandering around aimlessly? She had literally spent hours and hours roaming through the streets of London under the pale moonlight, helplessly and silently spying joyous couples holding hands, her eyes filled with tears, her limbs stirred by continuous shivers, her brains filled with memories, terrible fears and an even more hurtful awareness. The awareness that, after their conversation, as cold as the chilly British breeze, as blazing as the burning sentiment she had for him, she had to leave Robert Crawley. Forever.

That knowledge she had tried so hard to erase from her mind made her shiver once again, even in the warmth of Robert's house. Point was, there was no more warmth left for her in that place: just the extremely vague and the equally painful ghost of a future that was never meant to be. Closing the door behind her, she felt her heels stinging painfully, as a shot of pain ran through her legs, another unpleasant proof of how long she had walked, searching for answers she couldn't find. In any other situation, she would have promptly removed her shoes to take stock of the severity of the wounds that were surely on her feet; this time, however, was different: she had no need to take her high heels off, for she was to leave. And she was determined to do it as soon as possible.

Passing both her hands on her cold face with a long sigh, Cora headed to her room to group all of her things and put them in her trolley. Silently, she took a look at the dark room: a simple but elegant bed, a window, a closet and a nightstand… she was going to miss everything about it, especially the long nights she had spent in there: sometimes, she would sleep soundly until morning, other times, she would be awoken by the muffled sound of his voice, calling her from the adjacent room, or by his screams when he was having a nightmare. In all of those occasions, she had quietly hoped that one day, one day she was going to sleep by his side and therefore ease all of his fears; but those hopes made no sense anymore and had been replaced by regrets and pain. Running her slender finger across the bare skin of her shoulders and arms, Cora came out of her bedroom and slowly walked across the living room, where the table hadn't been cleared and the chairs were scattered everywhere, just to enter the bathroom and turn the lights on; at first, the glowing of the bulb hurt her eyes, but the vision she saw a few seconds later hit her even harsher: in the mirror in front of her, a young woman was staring back at her, her once impeccably combed curls now a confused mess, her once ivory skin now all reddened by the biting chill, and her eyes, her eyes once filled with the light of hope and joy, now as empty as her heart.

Noticing her eyeliner had run all over face, she proceeded to remove it and it was then and there that she realized she was being watched from behind her shoulders: she would recognize that steady breath everywhere, even in the largest crowd… it was much easier, in a deserted room. She had really hoped to escape unseen, but now she could not avoid it: she had to look at him one more time. She had to hold the gaze of his eyes, watch his smooth curls sway as he shook his head, stare at his thin lips. Was she ready? Was she ready to see the man she loved but couldn't have one last time? No, she wasn't. But she had no choice.

"Robert…", she said slowly, using all the strength she could gather to turn around and face him: there he was, on his wheelchair, still wearing his smart white shirt, terrible dark circles around his eyes. He seemed so mortified. "You waited up for me", she continued, "There was no need…".

"You look beautiful, you know", he interrupted her, his voice almost breaking, "You don't need to wear any make-up or…".

A blush threatened to appear on her cheeks, but Cora managed to hold it back. She had to be strong. "Please, spare me the pleasantries. I got no use for them", she just replied plainly.

"Cora…", he whispered underneath his breath, those two syllables lingering in the tense air between them, "I want to talk. I want to apologize for the way I behaved…".

"No, Robert, please, don't. Don't… say things that will only make me feel worse. Though my heart would never do it, my mind made a choice: I'm leaving. I cannot stay here. Not anymore".

From the way his eyes widened, she understood he was appalled, to say the least. When he spoke again, he was stammering: "Don't be hasty, Cora, you know I constantly say stuff I don't believe in… But I thought about it, if you'd just let me…".

In response, Cora just lowered her head, walked pass him and went back to her room, to fetch her trolley: she couldn't stay there a minute longer. Her pulse accelerating madly, she tried to lift her bag and noticed her hands were trembling: was that the power of love? The power of bringing even the most lively of souls down, dragging it into an abyss of despair? When Robert finally followed her inside the bedroom, she left him no time to speak: "Robert, it's too late. I'm sorry. Believe me, I am. I wish… I wish there was something you could do or say now, but there isn't. I can't be with you, if I can't be yours. I know… I know that's selfish and… and I am not proud of it. But…", she had to pause to catch her breath, "It would consume me. And not only me: I know you, Robert… it would slowly tear you apart too, if I stood by your side, loving you, knowing that you return the feeling, but that you're not ready to show it to me… it just couldn't work. It would destroy everything good we built… And it would make you unhappy, even unhappier than you are now…".

A tense silence fell between them and, once again, she had to look at him: she was going to miss him so terribly much. In those months spent together, that stubborn and yet sweet viscount had become her home, her world, her everything. All she wanted was to kiss him tenderly, hold him close to her, tell him all she felt inside. Instead, she just kept on talking: "And of all the things I don't want to see, knowing that you're miserable because of me, would be the worst one".

His mouth opened, but not a single word came out of it. Exhaling deeply, Cora knew it was time: there was nothing left to say and so… so it was time to go. Deep inside her, the need of shouting and crying tried to overwhelm her, no, but she had never been that fragile: she just clenched her fists, gritted her teeth and, grasping the trolley, she rushed out of the room, without looking at him. She couldn't, she just couldn't look at him. Suddenly, everything around her seemed to have disappeared: all she could hear was her feeble breath and the pounding of her heart. She wanted to get away, away, away… and not only from that house: she wanted to flee from herself, from the heartbreak, from everything her life had turned into. At a certain point, she vaguely heard the sound of Robert's voice, calling her. Asking her to stay. Begging her to listen to him. But no, no, _no_! She could not yield, though her heart was pleading her to stop. She got out the door and the coldness of the night ran over her once again… but it also managed to wake her up a little from her trance, enough to hear a familiar voice shout and a resounding thud. Suddenly panicking, she turned around and all of her fears were confirmed at once by the sight that appeared before her blue eyes: Robert was lying on the ground, apparently motionless, while his wheelchair was standing in the doorway. Immediately, she realized what had happened: unable to come down the few steps that separated the door from the garden, he had stood up without his crutches in the fool and hopeless attempt of following her and stop her… and then, he had fallen.

 _He had fallen_.

In a brief moment, a confused mix of all kind of emotions raged inside her like a hurricane: fear, preoccupation, affection, sadness, anxiety… Her body acted on impulse and, throwing the trolley on the wet grass, she ran towards him, kneeling beside him. It was her all fault… all her fault… _all her fault_. What if he had hit his head? What if he was injured because of her? No, no, it couldn't be!

"Robert!", she called him, cupping his cheeks: he was faintly blinking. "Robert!", she shouted again, and delicately put a hand on the back of his head to be sure he wasn't bleeding: no, he wasn't. When he finally lazily opened his eyes, Cora was sure her heart had skipped a beat: he wasn't unconscious… that was a very good sign.

"Hey, are you alright?", she asked in a sweet whisper, her hand uncontrollably caressing his wet curls, her eyes fixed on his sweet features, her heart beating fast for the scare and the subsequent awareness that he was still there with her, unhurt.

"Yes, yes, don't… don't you worry about me, we got thick skin, us Crawleys… we're hard to kill", he replied, almost snorting, trying helplessly to sit; after a few attempts, he understood all his efforts were for nothing and just laid back on the wet grass, smiling softly: "I also happen to have a thick head, so I'm afraid that gets in the way of my happiness, from time to time… And also the happiness of those I love, and this I can't accept", he reached out to caress her cheek and draw the contour of her jaw and neck, "You wouldn't let me talk before, so…".

"So you had to stand up without crutches and attempt suicide?", she playfully scolded him, trembing at his touch, while her fingers were still fiddling with his hair, "And ruin all the progress we have laboriously made through drugs, physiotherapy and my hard work?".

"I told you I'm particularly talented in ruining things for those I care about", he said bitterly.

She rolled her eyes, shaking her head. She couldn't believe she was practically fooling around with him, when a few minutes earlier she could barely look at his face without feeling the potent urge to cry. "Please, will you stop being such a drama queen? You…".

"Please, Cora, can… can I talk?", he promptly interrupted her, his voice tenuous and shy, as if he was terrified by the sole idea of hurting her again, "I've spent six hours thinking about what to tell you and if I don't get to say it, I just may just explode".

Before she could even nod to give him her consent, he tenderly took both her hands in his, placed them on his chest and closed his eyes, as if he was concentrating real hard. "Cora, when you… when you went away, this evening, I felt hopeless and, somehow, even wrong. It was an odd, odd sensation: on the surface, I was sure I had done the right thing, telling you I couldn't be with you, even if I loved you. You… you know why", he babbled, and Cora could feel his heart pounding hard beneath the fabric of shirt, "I just didn't want to drag you down with me inside this void that devours me endlessly. This void that has a name: depression. We've fought it together, haven't we? Sometimes it seems like there's still light, somewhere out there… And in those moments, though I know the accident has left me partially paraplegic, I really believe my life has just begun and it's in my hands. Other times… darkness sneaks inside me and overcomes me, and not only I feel powerless… I feel angry, alone, so full of sadness that… that…", he stopped, his lips trembling, as a single, shiny tear rolled down his cheek; instinctively, Cora wiped it away with her thumb, making him chuckle softly, "I don't intend to talk about myself all the time, don't worry, I know I'm not that interesting", he joked, probably noticing that Cora's face had suddenly darkened in concern.

"I beg to differ", she replied gently and let him go on with his speech.

"I just couldn't involve you in the mess I am, you see. Because I want you to be happy, Cora. It's the truth. Have you realized how important, fundamental you have quickly become for me? And I'm not just talking about your duties as a nurse… of course, those helped, but… You cured my soul, Cora. You started doing it the first time you entered my hospital room, the night we met. Though I never admitted it, not even to myself, I fell in love with you at first sight: the way you made fun of me and small dimples appeared on your cheeks, the way you looked startled when you found out my dog was called Pharaoh, the way you held back tears and proved to be stronger than I'll ever be… You see why I want your joy? Because everything you do is precious to me… You're precious to me", he declared, more serious than ever, as if he wanted to be sure she believed him, his dark blue eyes more beautiful than ever, "And so… so I guess I came to comprehend one extraordinary, significant truth: if everything you do is precious to me, who am I to choose for you? If you want to be with me… careless of my stubbornness, my temper, my jealousy and all of my numerous flaws… who am I to stop you? If you want to make this decision, it'll be precious to me, as always. I'll respect it, because it deserves to be respected… and I'll cherish it, if it makes you happy… Because that is everything I need to know".

Cora had never believed her heart could be so full: of love, of happiness, of every good sensation in the world. He had just proved he respected her, he had just proved he cared for her, he had just proved he… no, she had to be sure, first. "Does this mean…", she tried to ask, but her voice broke; for once, it wasn't anguish that had stopped her: it was some kind of overwhelming bliss.

Robert, still laying on the grass, smiled in the most beautiful way and stroked her hair. "Yes. I love you, Cora. And I want to be with you. Now and… who knows, maybe forever".

And so, her heart racing like a freight train, her head spinning like a carousel, her body burning like a wildfire, Cora didn't even think twice: she grasped the collar of his shirt to lift his curly head off the ground and, with a frenzy she had never felt before, she crushed her cherry lips on his thin ones, finally fulfilling a dream she had believed to be gone forever. Robert forthwith took her in her arms, his fingers exploring the skin of her back her dress didn't cover, and held her close to deepen the kiss; the very moment she felt his tongue gently touching her lips, she leant her head to give him access: then, their tongues collided, feeling each other, discovering each other, tasting each other. But she already knew what Robert tasted like, she had always known and never doubted it: he tasted like love, home, happiness. It was so familiar and yet so new, astonishing, almost miraculous. When they finally parted, quite reluctantly, it seemed to Cora like the night shone more brightly.

Maybe she had been wrong before… that was the real power of love: to make world look like a place of light, even when everything was somber and wrong.

"It's a bit cold out here, don't you think?", she suddenly asked, a bit worried, noticing that Robert was trembling decisively under the delicate pressure of her hands.

"Is it?", he replied, looking at her, apparently unable to stop smiling, the tone of his voice as dreamy as his eyes, constantly fixed on her face, "Actually, I don't remember feeling such burning flames inside me before… must be your lips on mine, or your hands on my skin… or just you".

"Oh, shut up!", she exclaimed, giggling nervously in quite an high-pitched voice, her cheeks swiftly turning pink, surely not for the freezing air, and gently passed a hand down his spine, "See, the back of your shirt is all wet! We must go inside at once or your parents will fire me in no time".

"Wait, let me look at my new favorite star in her natural environment just for a few more seconds", he called out; at first, Cora raised an eyebrow quizzically, unsure of what he was talking about, but then she abruptly realized what –or, even better, who- he was referring to and couldn't help but feeling both proud and embarrassed by his words: he was admiring her and the night sky. He was implying that she was his most precious star. "Stunningly beautiful", he added, and she bent down to kiss his lips once again, his aroma of mint and whiskey invading her mouth.

"Are you ready to go back in, now?", she hummed against the soft skin of his cheek, his stubble slightly tickling her.

Robert silently acquiesced to her request and so, leaning against her, he stood on his feet and they headed back to the house; it was bizarre, almost ironic: she'd been helping him to walk for months, but this time her heart was beating so fast… was it because his body and its warmth were so close to her?

When they finally got inside, Cora almost dragged him to the bathroom, where he insisted he wanted to be alone to put his pyjama on… though it seemed ridiculous to her: if they were to be together, she did have to see him naked, sooner or later. God, what was she thinking about? It wasn't like her! She immediately blushed, fiddling nervously with the hem of her dress and went to put her trolley back to her room, trying not to have such bold ideas… in vain. Until then, she'd always thought of her love for him as something idealized, something that had to do with the heart and the soul. But now… her body was reclaiming its prize too: basically, she found herself _wanting him_ … wanting his velvety, precise hands to undress her slowly and then touch her skin, wanting his eyes to melt into hers as their lips joined, wanting their bodies to become one. Her temperature was quickly rising when he called her from the bathroom… Damn, she had to pull herself together! Breathing in and out so many times she lost count, she went to aid him: she opened the bathroom door and, putting her arm around his waist, she helped him to stand up, while his face contracted for the sharp pain; then, she made him gently lay down on his bed, while she sat on its edge… and there he was: her man, clutched underneath the covers like a baby… just like the first time they had met. Still, one thing had changed: the way he looked at her: now, his eyes were filled with love, pure, genuine love. And the mere fact he wasn't afraid of showing it, made her feel like her heart could burst any moment soon. Cora started caressing absently the quilt, her head lowered so he could not read her mind through her eyes… now, more than ever, she could fathom it: _she needed him_. She needed him _now_.

"Will you stay?", he asked in a whisper and reached for her hand. That small brush was enough: she almost jumped, as her knees were trembling, her throat was dry and her desire was growing so strong she could no longer hold it… She had do act, she had to do it at once.

Without saying a single word, she gently climbed on top of him, careful not to put pressure on his legs and pelvis, and she captured his lips in a slow kiss: it was different from the other two they had shared… There was no hurry, no uncontrollable passion, just the vigorous intention of savoring that apparently everlasting moment for as long as possible and as deeply as possible. When they finally parted and their forehead joined, she spoke quietly. "I can do more than just stay", she mumbled, tracing the contour of his mouth with her index finger, "If you want to…".

He chuckled, rubbing his nose against hers. "Want it? Dear God, Cora… I don't just _want it_ … I need it, seek it, crave it and… well, very good, now I have run out of synonyms", he exclaimed, his tone so disappointed she couldn't help but giggle, though her body was crying for him, "Point is… are you sure I will be able to…".

"I'm your nurse, Robert", she interrupted him, "Don't you trust your nurse?".

"Of course I trust you", he murmured, caressing her knuckles with his thumb, and when he looked at her, the intensity of his stare caught her unprepared, "I just don't want you to be… disappointed… in me or in my…". He didn't finish the sentence, but Cora knew exactly what he meant.

"Robert, I love you", she whispered, cupping his cheeks to kiss his forehead, his nose and then his lips, where she lingered a bit longer to prove her point, "I love everything about you… how could you ever be a disappointment, to me?".

Probably both moved and thrilled by her muffled but heartfelt words, he wasted no more time: he captured her lips in a passionate kiss, while his hands cupped her buttocks promptly to draw her close. Cora, who wasn't expecting such ardor, reacted immediately: her fingers moving quickly, she started unbuttoning the shirt of his pyjama, until they found the marvel of the suntanned skin of his chest and started exploring every single inch of it.

"Cora…", he hummed in her mouth, as he tried to unzip the back of her dress. When he finally managed to remove the offending garment and threw it on the floor, he remained speechless: she wasn't wearing her bra under it. Breathing in and out loudly, he took the time to admire her firm, little breasts. "My God, Cora…", he whispered, as one of his trembling hands traced the contour of her nipple gently, almost worshipping it, "You look so wonderful". Her chest immediately turned pink for the embarrassment and the pride that those words had managed to make her feel deep inside and so, seizing the moment, she held him close to her: everything was so perfect, she wanted to relive that moment forever… It was perfect, because they were together. Despite the difficulties, the pain, the tears, the doubts, the fights, the screams… They were finally together.

They made love, that night. And it was beyond her imagination: he was so thoughtful, so gentle and yet so fiery that it made her want to cry… and she couldn't recall feeling anything like it with any of her previous boyfriends: because when Robert had taken her, she had felt complete for the first time in her life, she had felt like a missing part of her soul and heart had finally come back to her. Every kiss, every caress, every careless whisper and every timid giggle had proved one marvelous, airtight truth: Robert was her everything and she was his.

They didn't only make love, that night. That night, Robert had no nightmares. Actually, Cora wasn't sure she could take credit for that, but she just couldn't help being overwhelmingly happy: it was so unspeakably wonderful to carefully watch him sleep soundly in her arms, his breath steady, his chest lowering and rising peacefully. It was very, very late when she finally fell asleep too and yet, she woke up before him: rubbing her eyes idly, she looked at the alarm clock… God, it was 3 p.m.! Groaning loudly, she got out of bed, immediately trembling because of the cold… but a quick look at the sleeping beauty still snoring beside her was enough to warm her and make her smile: she gave Robert a gentle kiss on the forehead and was ready to head to the kitchen to prepare something for breakfast… or lunch, or whatever it was! Still, she had to solve a little, tiny problem: she was as naked as the day she was born, she was freezing to death and couldn't see her dress anywhere! How was that even possible? Where had he tossed it? She rolled her eyes: not that she didn't appreciate his impetuosity, on the contrary… but her trolley was back in her room and she didn't want to make her way through the cold living room in nothing but her skin! Then, something caught her eye: on the backrest of a chair she saw one of his white shirts; she took it and, rolling its extremely long sleeves with a small smirk, she put it on. Still grinning, she admired herself in the mirror: the shirt looked more like a baggy, improbable dress on her. She liked it… and, most importantly, she loved its smell. Robert's unique sweet and yet manly scent.

Eventually, she really headed to the kitchen and entered it… but she couldn't know she was being watched… again. Problem was, this time, it wasn't Robert who was hiding in the shadows. "Well, well", she heard a stranger feminine voice exclaim, "I didn't know that the hospital uniforms consisted in men's shirts, nowadays. I do have a doubt, though: are your legs constantly supposed to be so… bare? Must be pretty cold down there".

Immediately, Cora turned around and what she saw was enough to make her open her mouth in surprise –and, above all, in deep shame: a man and a woman in their fifties were sitting on the kitchen table, and, though he had never met them before, she knew exactly who they were… Lord and Lady Grantham, that is to say, Robert's parents right there in the flesh. She felt out of breath, paralyzed, incapable of uttering a single word: God, she could have met them during a party, a celebration, a simple family lunch… Why on earth did she have to meet them on a random morning, after making love to their only son, while she was wearing nothing but one of his shirts? She swallowed nervously: for a moment, she really thought of escaping from the window and bury herself alive in the garden… and still, she wasn't even sure _that_ was going to wash away all the embarrassment she was feeling. Her mind still unable to think anything rational or at least comprehensible, she looked at the woman, Robert's mother: she had her ash blonde hair combed in a ballerina bun and was wearing an elegant purple dress with lots of ribbons… but what struck Cora the most were her eyes: they were blue, but very different from her son's… they were icy and pale… surely not friendly. As for his father, he seemed to be constantly grinning: he looked calm, and yet severe in his black suit, in a strange mix that somehow made her think of a cunning version of Robert. In that odd situation, her usual confidence seemed to have disappeared completely. Damn, what was she going to do? Her mind a complete blur, she managed to spit out a few mixed-up words: "Madam, I… You see, I…".

"Don't bother trying to explain, miss Levinson", she interrupted her peremptorily, a sarcastic look printed on her otherwise serious features, while Cora internally screamed: okay, she knew who she was… Well, her accent had probably given her away… damn it. "I can imagine what kind of… good relations you and my son may have. Even if I would prefer not to fantasize about it".

Suddenly, her husband –with an equally ironic look on his face- spoke slowly. He had a low, deep tone that, somehow, reminded her of Robert's voice and yet, there was a big difference: his father's voice was grave, severe, almost austere. It was the voice of a man who didn't talk much, but weighed accurately every single syllable that came out of his mouth. "Well, dear, of all the people our son could have good relations with, I must say his choice fell on quite a valuable candidate", he joked, taking a very brief look at Cora and caressing his beard. God, she felt so silly and ridiculous! She just wanted to evaporate on the spot!

"Lord Grantham, milady, I don't know how to apologize…".

Once again, lady Violet didn't even consider the possibility of let her explain herself. "As I said, don't bother, dear. You're just my son's nurse, practically a stranger, and we've just found you in the most inconvenient situation… I suppose you'll agree with me on that, if you have a bit of self-respect and professionalism. So, to be frank, I don't really believe we can overlook these unpleasant circumstances. Now, I expect you to go to your room, change your clothes so we can discuss…".

And then, another voice stormed unexpectedly into the conversation and Cora couldn't help but smile up her sleeve: she knew that tender and yet determined voice so well. And the fact its owner was coming to her rescue, just made it even sweeter. "Cora isn't _just my nurse_ ", Robert stated, in a tone that brooked absolutely no argument, walking inside the kitchen with his crutches, "She's my girlfriend, Mama. And she can wear whatever she wants inside my house". He looked at her with such sweetness in his eyes, she really believed she going to melt. "Good morning", he whispered in her ear and kissed her cheek, taking a long look at her, "Mh, you look particularly pretty in my shirt", he got closer to her and breathed in her ear: "Maybe you should wear it next time we make love".

In response, Cora cleared her throat nervously: she was pretty sure his parents hadn't heard his audacious offer, still, the look of disapproval on his mother's face made her pretty uneasy. "Next time, you'll better not throw my dress in some dark corner of the room, or I'll make sure there won't be another time for longer than you can imagine".

He chuckled and, kissing her cheek once again, he slowly approached his parents to greet them properly. After a while, as Robert was talking to his mother –who, by the way, still didn't look particularly happy about that whole situation and kept staring at her frowning-, Lord Grantham took Cora aside. "We heard from Rosamund. She told us the party didn't go very well", he stated and from the way he raised his thin eyebrow, she understood he was expecting to hear a few more details about it.

She cleared her throat nervously: he barely knew that man, how was she supposed to tell him that his own son despised his personal assistant, Simon Bricker, who had gently provided to spoil the night for everyone with his rude behavior? God, she needed a drink. "Well, it was…", she stammered, but before she could even utter a single coherent word, Lord Grantham interrupted her, just like his wife had done many times that morning. Damn, was that a family tradition or what? Even Robert was pretty good at that!

"Miss Levinson, please, if I wanted to hear a lie, I would talked to my son", he politely but coldly explained her, "The fact you two are… let's say _intimate_ , weighs but little with me. But I do care about his health… And I know you do too".

So behind the mask of nonchalance there was a man with emotions and affections, after all. Sighing deeply, Cora began: "The party was a disaster", she admitted, shrugging, "Actually, it didn't start that bad, but then…".

"Then?", he asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Then Mister Bricker started to make snide remarks when talking to Robert, and he really…", she cleared her throat before continuing, "It really looked like he was trying to humiliate him… especially when he told Robert that he was a disappointment for you, milord… And therefore you are not going to leave your legacy to him".

After a few moments of silence, Lord Grantham began to laugh out loud, leaving Cora a bit puzzled, really: she couldn't recall saying anything particularly funny. "Crikey, miss Levinson, this is really a good one!", he exclaimed, "Did Simon really say these things?".

Still a bit confused, she managed to mutter three simple words: "He did, sir".

In reply, the man snorted. "And what does he think? That I'm going to leave everything I've built in the course of a lifetime to him, perhaps?".

Cora found herself very, very puzzled again: was Robert's father playing with her or was he serious? God, why couldn't English people be clear just for once! She couldn't spend all of her time trying to understand their humor. "Yes", she finally replied, shrugging again, wisely deciding to keep of all those thoughts for herself.

Now, it was Lord Grantham's time to be confused by their unusual conversation. "What?", he asked, his eyes suddenly widened.

"That's exactly what he said", she explained, "He said… that you trust him completely… even more than Rosamund or Robert".

The man just shook his head in disbelief. "Simon is a fool. He's a good worker and I trust him completely only when it comes to make decisions in the office… but outside, in the real world, I wouldn't entrust one of my dogs to him. He's sneaky and a real opportunist… very convenient in our job, but that's it", he paused for a second, "What he doesn't realize is that I don't actually like him. I only find him useful… While Robert… he's a dreamer and he's far too stubborn… but he's my son. And he's a good man… A really good man. I've always been harsh on his ways, and so I never… I never actually told him. After the accident, when I first saw him at the hospital I was… shocked. There was still blood on the covers of the bed. I couldn't breathe nor think lucidly… Deep inside, I knew I had to console him, to cheer him up, to stand by his side. Instead, I told him that something like that would never have happened, if he had worked with me. I couldn't believe the words that were coming out of my mouth… and yet I couldn't stop. I guess it was the only way for me to accept such a trauma: to deny it with my cynicism. And so… I was never able to tell him that I'm proud of him", he stammered for an imperceptible moment, then his voice became steady once again, and he smiled to her, winking, "But I'm able to tell you, apparently. I like you, miss Levinson. I'm still not sure why, but I do like you. Maybe because I can see in your eyes the immense love you have for my son".

While he was speaking, Cora could hear her heartbeats accelerate exponentially: so, all of Robert's paranoias were for nothing. His father was proud of him, after all. They just didn't talk and, when they did, it was only to say hurtful things they didn't believe in. But Lord Grantham… he had a sweet side. She had just showed it.

"Hey, Papa! Don't frighten her!", Robert abruptly interrupted them giggling, "Cora, come here. I want you to properly meet Mama".

Though she wasn't sure his mother was particularly pleased to get to know her better, she got closer to him and put one hand on his shoulder, caressing it softly, while his other one fiddled gently with the curls on the back of his head. Her mind was absent, her chest was still burning wildly… Robert, his father and his mother were talking, but she could barely hear them… now, she just wanted to kiss his lips, but she had to contain herself… there was going to be plenty of time to kiss him again. No, she had to be calm and savor this ineffable feeling, an awareness she had always had inside, but now had been confirmed by the man whose judgement had always scared Robert: his father. The awareness Robert had really never let anyone down… an awareness that was going to make him happy once and for all.

Robert's happiness… she smiled: how could she ask for more?

 **To reply to the last guest review I received, yes, I'm going to finish this… sooner or later haha. I'm just very, very slow and I'm sorry about it. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this new chapter. I'm personally not particularly satisfied about it, but let me know. Thanks for all the reviews and the constant encouragement! Particularly, I must thank piccolaJaneway for her kind words and for convincing me to complete this new chapter.  
Anyway, do REVIEW and let me know what you think about it!  
Love,  
Elisa x**


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